Come along, little warriors

Stolas smiled and gave a happy little giggle when his father nuzzled him between his ears. Seere showed up next, the boy smiling to his tiny sister, followed by the rest of his siblings. Eager to hear what their parents had arranged for them, Stolas looked between Plague, Void, and Rava, his tail wagging behind him on the soft golden sands. Plague was quick to explain what he had summoned them all for: an obstacle course to train! Plague explained the rules of the course: run the length of it, then engage the targets at the end. Stolas nodded his head; seemed simple enough! "No, sir," he replied when asked if there were any questions. When no one else said anything and their father gave them the green light to begin, Seere was the first one to take off into the course. Being the level-headed and logical boy he was, Stolas sat back and watched while his sister took an attempt at it, studying where she stumbled and fell and how she progressed.

Once he felt he'd seen enough, Stolas sprung into action. The lad steeled his gaze and rushed forward, trying to weave nimbly through the pegs set up. He slalomed through many of them thanks to his long legs and lanky body, but occasionally he bumped a couple with his chunky puppy sides as he went. Not enough to knock them over, thankfully, but definitely rattling them in the sand. Growling with frustration at himself, Stolas ran for the ramp next, leaping onto it to get a head start while his paws scrabbled for the stone grappling points. He secured his hold, then began to hoist himself up and up, his hind paws slipping as he neared the top and threatening to send the pup tumbling down again. But Stolas grunted and held on, letting his body swing for a moment before he caught his footing and finished the climb to the top. Though not very high, the Abraxas prince still felt the height, and when he peered down into the ball pit, he felt a nervous clench of his stomach.

For a moment, Stolas hesitated at the top of the ramp. He peered down at the pit, then back the way he came. No! There was no chickening out now! Steeling his nerves with a deep breath, he threw himself forward. Stolas was airborne—at least for all of two seconds before he plummeted into the pit, knocking a few of the balls out with his weight. He scrambled his way back out and lunged into the fight ring, puppy teeth bared in a vicious growl as he rushed the nearest target. Stolas threw himself at the dummy—actually legitimately threw himself at it—and used his size and weight to knock it fully over and out of the sand, snapping the stick holding it up while he began to savage its face and neck with his little needly puppy fangs.

"Stolas Abraxas-Destruction"