Ghent kneeled, there perched on the rooftop waiting for their quarry. The smell from below made him wrinkle his nose, but it did not distract him from paying attention to any movement or sound of something arriving. A sound could be heard and he watched Afira step forth with a torch. Something would emerge from the darkness, was that Toltan? He was significantly worse for wear than he had imagined. The disfigurement was beyond the missing limb, there were these grotesque lumps. He looked severely ill, and he could scarcely imagine what ill fortune befell the poor bastard.  He didn’t seem particularly lucid given his response to being arrested.

When Toltan’s demeanor shifted to resentful anger, he was readying to intervene should it escalate. And then it did. Just not in the way he was expecting. Now the trajectory shifted from restraining or incapacitating a deranged man to having to kill whatever the hell he just turned into. Like a bird of prey attacking prey, he too dove into the monster, doing a modified sharkfang lunge. Where the first attack from the jump was a feint, and the second was the true attack.