Death Roll

The creature was large and alarmingly powerful. Viðarr threw himself in front of its jaws, ready to catch the brunt of the thing's attention. By the gods, first the bears, now he had to deal with.... this? His teeth flashed from beneath dark lips, and he did his best to sink them into the armor-plated beast. Narrowly, he avoided the snapping jaws from the prehistoric pain in the ass. Viðarr snarled, reaching out with his own teeth to snap at the beast.

He knows that the crocodile is plated, damn near a walking suit of armor. It would be hard to get through it, but not impossible. That's fine, he can deal with difficult. He would hold the beast's attention while Keetie tried to take it down. Viðarr did manage to feel the squidge of an eyeball under the crushing weight of his jaws as he lunged for the croc's face. Still, he has to back off a bit faster than he'd like to avoid the threat of the gator's massive teeth once more. Suddenly, Viðarr finds himself missing the bears.

"Viðarr"