Striker merely ducked underneath the spear, grabbing the wrist of the offending party, snapping it, and then twirling said spear into the heart of the nearby skywing. An arrow whizzed by his ear, and his claw flew up to snatch it, flipping and hurling it back at the archer. Another skywing tried to stab him, Striker just sidestepped, casually avoid the swift attack. It was almost like a dance for him, the way he flowed between the weapons and claws of the other dragons. A dragon charged him and Striker just punched him upwards from across the jaw, snapping his mouth close and his head up.
Yet another sandwing darted his way, attempting to leap on Striker’s back. He met only dagger instead, the silent kiss of burning cold metal the only thing the poor sandwing received. Striker kicked up a spear that was on the ground, the shaft still stained from blood. Without turning his head, he simply thrust it behind him, killing yet another skywing.
A thrown knife almost hit him, and Striker sighed. He would start having to take this a tiny bit seriously. Which was sad, as he was having fun. When the second dagger came for his head, he caught it with his teeth, before spitting it out, grinning madly at the thrower of the knives, a young rainwing assassin from the looks of it.
“Well, let’s dance, you bastard” The rainwing spat out. Striker could only sob on the inside. Why are all the children sent to him...