Standing still, he watched the group before him for the reactions of his spell. His breathing didn’t change and from the scar in the armor a little trickle of blood started to flow. All around the beast he saw energy returning as the Prominent Walk of Peace faded away and with it the Zweihander as well. In the middle of all this he waited, he wanted to feel something; thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as a blade punched into the exposed flesh on his side. Like a stone wall he didn’t waver. His hand took hold of the weapon and held it still, almost pushing it in deeper to feel its cold fang breath on the inside.

Fire came next, and with it came warmth, but not from the wound on his side. Instead it came from the warm sting of flame that bashed against back. Lifting his head up in a mix of pain and pleasure from the sensations he smiled followed by a deep laughing that would of made even the most hardened of warrior’s blood run cold. His grip on the blade grew ever tighter, the sound of the metal starting to bend became audible to the Swordswoman.

Next came the slash of the energy of the enchanted blade, crashing into the Zweihander which had already taken from on his back. Still the lightning around the blade bit at the beast causing a moment where his muscles spazzed before the weapon was rebound away. His arm shifting directions snapping the longswords blade to break in two places, one still stuck in his body sticking out a little, the other still attached to the hand of the Swordswoman. Once the feeling had passed, his head lowered, and his hand released its grip on the third piece of the blade letting it drop the earth.

Yet his moment wasn’t over, for from the ground came the flash of light which surrounded his body, over taking his energy. Still he did not waver. Not but a hand full of breaths after the energy attached to his body, which crept under his ‘armor’ turned black. Wordlessly reversing the effects of the soul energy feeding him instead. While he didn’t answer in this state, he instead stood still, letting his own hunger be stated. Turning head to the Elf who looked to be the medic of the group. No words came instead an image to her of his soul, yet it wasn’t a human soul anymore. Twisted by some strange magic which was slowly eating it away and replacing it with something darker. What was once an elf’s soul was slowly being torn to that of a mighty beast’s, this was a sign to her that his Humanity was waning away.

Returning his attention back to the group before him the monster of a man reached into the, now visibly bleeding, wound pulling out the part of the blade which was stuck inside him. The creature’s face twisted in the same mix of pain and pleasure as inch by inch the metal was removed. Once it had been completely freed those who could see the wound saw it healing, closing up and in its dark nature, replace the missing piece of ‘armor’ which had been cut away from before. It was now dawning on the Swordswoman that this armor he had on, was naturally forming, being more akin to Scute with the same quality as the ore’s it mimicked. 

Holding up one hand, two finger standing tall while the thumb and the last two fingers folded close, no words came out only a calm breath.

“I have what I need, you will do nicely.  And the Scout is a nice trophy.”

With that said his body slowly turned black, blade and all, before fading from sight altogether. The only sign of his presence, a broken Bow and but a handful of arrows marked the last known location of the creature as the words died in the forest around them.