Offr.com: What's it worth?

Nyoka keeps their fighting stance up at al times. Their eyes emboldened by the fire of combat. Reawakening their senses with some smelling salts.

With his recent travel through the snow and Russian territory, he has begun to train himself through a bunch of exertion-styled training inhabiting the ways and pride of American football, He has given himself no limit to what he feels both mindfully, body wise, spiritually as he has ascended to where he can take it all and keep on ticking no matter what.

When the mighty warrior steps onto the battlefield, he feels his mind changing. He doesn't care what happens. He picks up his weapon and just knows that today is a good day to die.

Pain lacks affect on the wendigo, in fact the pain releases the icy rage within, it fuels him and he accepts it

Remus lay unresponsive on the floor; enshrouded in a cloud of psychoactive gas, his trusty oversized cross laying besides him as always. In spite of his condition, some semblance of a sentence managed to slur its way out of his unconscious lips.

"...Goddamnit, gotta get back to the fuggin' job-"

Still fully unconscious, one hand reached over in a slow and practised movement that had by now reached some sort of muscle memory: hefting up the large cross and slapping himself harshly across the side of the face with the enormous thing.
Bringing him back to the land of the living.

The mobster's been through tougher scrapes than this. A few cuts and bruises won't stop them.