As Strygwyr drew back to slash at the arm that held him off, he was surprised to suddenly be grappled and lifted. "Eh?!" Being grabbed by one with such incredible strength was a very bad thing. Wrestling was not a blood seeker's forte. He could be pinned, not to mention bones broken. But even as he began to struggle, he was launched ten feet in the air with a laugh. A red ball of flailing carnage and teeth, he had no control over his flight as he landed badly atop some poor, unfortunate person. Some of his own black feathers flew off into the cloud. It was little better than slamming into another wall. His mind coming back to him, Strygwyr assessed the immediate situation. Broding was now some distance away. Behind him was Lord Polvak and his men, and before him were two casters, one smelling like toxic ash and the other, whom he may have landed on, was a woman, smelling a bit like chicken. His maw forming a frown of clear disapproval, he turned his blind head toward the scent he recognized from earlier. The man seemed to be groveling..., or crazy, but in either case, Strygwyr hated magic users. He got up once again, with some discomfort, trying to decide who was the biggest threat around him. The gate had by now dropped down, completely closed, and they were all trapped within the keep's walls. Suddenly, the blood hunter gasped with realization. The dead were rising nearby, with the essence to support them seemingly coming from this bird-like woman before him. He growled and bared his fangs at her. "You steal essence from the Twin's mouths. You must die."