Gorn stripped the heavy apron from his body. It revealed crisscrossed marks of old burns and scars. When he shifted his body swelled. His skin thickened into coarse gery-brown fur. His legs bend, becoming thick and powerful hooves. The horns on his head grew larger, more menacing.
Uri's shift was silent and fluid. His body didn't swell; it elongated. His limbs grew long and sinuous. His skin hardened into a mosaic of black and emerald green scales. He coiled, a massive, muscular serpent. His forked tongue flicked out to taste the air.
The fight started without a signal.
Gorn charged, his hooves struck the rock with deafening cracks. There was no subtlety in his attack. The ground shook with the impact of his charge. His body was a projectile of muscle aimed directly at Uri.
Uri didn't try to meet him head-on. That was not his strong suit. If he did, he knew he would be injured. Instead, his body glided to the side, moving quickly enough for Gorn's charge to mean nothing.
