The Velociraptors still hadn't moved. The madness was coming slowly this time, and if anything that was even worse. Continually Odottaen wiggled his arms and twitched his tail around, signing coming-warning-of-madness, but they did not understand in the slightest, and if anything completely ignored his physical movements, perceiving them to be pitiful attempts at distraction. Everyone had been like that. A Pachycephalosaurs language was 50% physical, 50% voice, and while their signs were universal to their species, to everyone else voice was voice and had no motions to go along. It was almost a shame.
Odottaen's nostrils flared. He took a small step back. And then the attack began. The Velociraptors began to edge closer, tightening the circle very slowly. They were intelligent, thinking beasts, but the heat of the late afternoon took its toll on everyone. The Pachy's breathing began to accelerate. His fingers wiggled and shook in signs of cannot-control and request-for-departure. He almost thought about making lowest-to-highest signals in a last ditch attempt of freedom. Maybe if the sharpteeth realized he thought of them as the grandest, most respectable species, and he the weakest, most useless, perhaps they would let him go, though that was false. But no. No, that wouldn't work.
Suddenly the growing madness recieded, and that was the time when the Pachy was most afraid. It had been his escape from the world, complete oblivion to violence. In growing fear that he might actually die, the Pachy bellowed and stomped his wounded feet, trying to scare them off. It didn't work. If anything, it looked like they were laughing.
