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Nal Akima/Wilderness outside of Nal Sur
Bernardt was running through the woods, trying to get away from the band of 6 or so attackers following him. But there wasn't an ounce of fear coming from him. 6 attackers, some of which are werewolves by the smell of it, following him meant 6 less attackers in Nal Sur. And while he was outnumbered, he wasn't necessarily outmatched.
He kept a steady pace. His armour kept him quite warm and his growing up in cold climates helped to keep him going. But he wouldn't outrun them. Thankfully he didn't have to. He just needed to get away from the vicinity of Nal Sur. He was in the middle of nowhere, with arrows zipping past to hit the trees and snow next to him. Some found their mark but were stuck in his armour, making him look like a porcupine.
He finally lost his footing when one arrow found an opening on his left calf and another punched through his pauldron. He went down into the snow, bus scrammed to his feet. He faced the attackers getting closer with a hand on his longsword. But going up against them like this was a death sentence. He untied his belt and dropped his sword to the ground, then arched forward.
He grew in size until he tore out of his armour and towered over the attackers. 2 of them followed suit and turned into enormous werewolves as well. Bernardt snarled, his pitch black form staring down the attackers while they stared back. He wasn't afraid of them...but he knew the reality of him dying was quite prominent in this moment. The reality that he might never see Nea again...
He pushed the thoughts aside, arching his claws and baring his teeth as he stared them down. He hoped secretly that help would fall from the heavens, but that would never happen. He was in this alone...