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Damien watched Brian shoot the Stymphalian birds. "You keep throwing sticks at birds. Seems to be one of your better talents," he smirked, jumping toward one of the Chimeras.

Head decapitating wasn't his kind of thing, anyway, so he just went for the chest. However, the heads of the monster lashed at him, giving him both a few bruises and a some good cuts. Damien cut open the bottom of the Chimera, leaving a gash almost its full body size. He then proceeded to the actual killing.

Damien followed this technique with the few Chimeras that actually stuck around to try defeating the demi-god, which resulted in horrible casualties for the visitors. Bored and exhausted (obviously more bored), Damien sat back at the base of the tree and cleaned his spear of whatever filth was left from the attack.

Damien sighed, shaking his head. He stood up and approached the birds, spear in hand. "Instead of trying to use a string and twigs, use something like a sword or a spear," he explained, swinging his spear at one of the birds. A wing was shredded off before it transformed into a light cloud of dust. "Let the bird come to you and just slice it," the teen explained to Brian. "If you want to fight with something blunt, I grabbed a shield on my way here," he offered, holding up the shield.

Brian finished off the last few Stymphalian birds. Soon, they were gone. Brian walked to Damien. "Tell me when you see any more monsters." Brian said to Damien walking away.

From behind the tree, a growl resounded, something skittering as it ran up the hill. When it reached the crest, it looked...as if it were a dragon. It was on all fours, and looked less like the mythical beast and more like a komodo dragon from the zoo. Something was oozing from its' mouth, though, and as it dripped to the ground, the grass sizzled and died.

It spotted Meredith, and let out a shriek, before lowering its' head and rushing toward the tree.

It skidded, trying to avoid the tree but without any luck. Its snout slammed into the trunk, spattering acid across the pine, claws scrabbling in the dirt to get a footing to turn and lunge at its' lunch again.