Even though she had been silenced, the black net of void magic still took shape, falling atop the blood hunter that very same moment. It was unavoidable. Strygwyr cried out as the the net crackled with energy, shocking him. The edges of the net fixed themselves to the ground, preventing him from running. He struggled, pulling against it. The net restricted his movements, but even still, he managed to parry through it and return a strike to the priestess' chin. As she fell backward, he collapsed forward, leaning on his weapons, exhausted. Panting, he tried to cut the net, but it did not work. Inside the keep, the battle had been reduced to the two champions, Broding and Polvark. The slaughter was over, and without bloodshed, the hound of the Twins was losing power. Knowing it was well past time to depart, Strygwyr growled in frustration. He had been caught and was likely going to die for it. He lifted his head as he heard Broding expel a roar of agony. He blinked under his mask. An eye? The Gutra was a very good killer. Strygwyr contemplated as he took a moment to rest under the net. The twins would have been pleased to have him... and they would not require his eyes.