jeff fischer american dad

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Roc took to the air, flying in loops over the arena. People in the audience shielded their eyes from the sun and pointed at him, trying to keep him in their sights as his speed grew. As he built up his acceleration, he channeled mana into his right leg, and a sheath of energy enveloped eagle talons. “Decisive Divebomb,” he cast, prompting a magic circle to appear around his ankle. Beast Art, the combination of shamanism and monk magic. When he fought Aithorn, he could only use basic mana enhancement on his attacks, but by honing his monk magic by fighting Seraph over and over, his training back in the Ashok Mountains had been fruitful, and he had reached the league of true beastman warriors.

“For me too, baby!” he agreed, though it wasn't immediately clear to me if it was just that he'd thought it had been perfect, or if he meant it had been something he'd always wanted, too. I'd have to remember to ask him about that later, sometime Mom wasn't around.

Outside, Daniel continued to play, with his mana and sound echoing through the arena and bouncing out as if the structure was a giant speaker. The people, originally drunk on bloodlust, were soothed by the reverberating tunes, and his energy filled their minds like a sweet drug. He eventually finished his concert and received a standing ovation. However, it wasn’t just his playing that got them all riled up. Now, the fifth round could begin, and the first fight was bound to be an interesting one.