Anyway, /OOC...]The front door began to buckle as the beaver gnawed away at it. Each of the people in the house reacted to this breach of the peace in their own characteristic way -- except one.
Mildred Hamael retreated to the far corner of the living room, clutching her infant child, and began praying, her entreaties to Luminosia punctuated by loud sobs. Jake the dog joined her in the corner, whimpering.
Brother Miguel's not-that-long-ago military training kicked in. He grabbed a poker from the living-room fireplace, cast a quick Iron Skin spell on himself, and stationed himself in front of the crumpling door, crouched in a combat-ready position.
Argus began working on a spell.
And Hildegard bounded to the kitchen with unexpected dexterity, returning with a heavy rolling pin that she wielded as easily as though it were a serving spoon.
None of them were ready, however, for what the other, previously unseen, human occupant of the house did next.
A small boy, perhaps four years old, emerged from the back of the house carrying a stuffed teddy bear. Just as the door splintered into oblivion, revealing the beaver's huge incisors, the boy's eyes glowed red.
"Bad beaver. Die," he said, with a slight lisp.
The beaver slumped to the ground and did not move.
Hildegard dropped her rolling pin, her mouth agape, and traced the Sign of Luminosita in the air. And despite himself, Miguel did the same thing.
