Drew On- Breastplate

The guard with the scimitar took another potshot at Drew, but his timing couldn’t have been worse. Drew had embraced the change, and all he now saw was a room full of enemies. His clawed foot shot up from the floor, kicking the warrior hard in his chest, sending him flying back through the air. He hit a marble pillar, landing in a crumpled heap, his polished breastplate battered out of shape. By the time his scimitar fell from his unconscious grasp, Drew had fully transformed, the Werewolf crouching on the floor, ready for battle.'

B3 P5 C3