The priestess' speed was surprising as she managed not to die moment after moment. Like an animal, Strygwyr followed up relentlessly, living in the present at every second, yet she seemed to preempt each movement. Her gods and her magic were helping her a great deal. He'd have to put an end to that. He gasped as she hit him with a spell that sent him flying back almost as far as Broding could throw him. Clutching his stomach, he steadied himself. Pain slowed him, detracting from the benefits of the wounded around him.

He was recovering quickly, but he couldn't let that keep happening. Looking up, he saw Shrekia waving her hands in preparation of another spell. "Oh no." He said, refusing to allow whatever she was planning. Then, interrupting her, he stomped his foot in her direction, letting out something between a roar and a bark that was actually a spell of his own. Although it didn't hurt, initially, Shreika felt her adrenalin suddenly release. She became suddenly stronger, faster, wild, like an animal, and crazed with a bloodthirst that was so intense she couldn't even speak. Overwhelming raw physical power filled her body, distracting her. It would drain her energy the longer it lasted, but for the moment, she felt like she was a monster and could simply eat anyone. 

Strygwyr stood back a moment to watch the spell's affects, laughing softly as a trickle of his own blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He often used the spell on himself to completely overwhelm his foes. On him, it was godly power, but when used on a typically weak caster, the power amplification wasn't much of a threat. The silence however, was debilitating. 

Lord Polvark had dropped his weapons and ordered a surrender. Strygwyr frowned as he realized the battle would soon be over. He himself wasn't a one man army, and without war, there was no reason for him to remain present. The Gutra had promised a warrior's mercy to Polvark and his men, which meant that they would be slaughtered by the barbarians. It was going to be a bloodletting that a hound of the flayed ones wasn't expected to be involved in. He didn't need the entire barbarian army turning on him, but he'd at least kill this priestess before he left. 

Although his sides ached from the blast he had taken, the bloodseeker moved forward with a slight limp. "And now, you know my thirst, priestess."