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[Old Blue Eyes]

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"I didnt ask for this."

Alastor did a forward roll as the energy bolt slammed and shattered the oak tree to the left of him. The brow of his kasa creased during the evasive manuever. Spitting some blood, he shouted over the fallen log. "This is my favorite hat, you know..." The ground began to tremor and split as Alastor leapt into a nearby tree. "Cute," he spat as the trunk of the tree began to erupt into flames. A simple dodge of the neck evaded the magebolt intended to fry his skull as he leapt to the forest floor. His motion was fluid; his execution, seamless.

Summoning all the strength he could muster in his legs, Alastor catapulted himself to another tree. His Atalan eyes flashed red as he scoured the terrain for his hunter...for it was not in the nature of any Atalan, to be hunted. His arched ears snapped forward as the sound of a footfall crunched some distance to the north. Roundear fisher, Alastor thought to himself. Clinging to the tree and blending was something Alastor didnt care for.

Meet the enemy head on, with all one has to offer.

For that was the Atalan way. Unless, of course, you were being hunted by the Firstlord...
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