[@Enki]

The monster was no fool, as many had learned the hard way. It liked to take its time. Torturing victims was its one and only pastime, its one true love. In certain situations though, it understood that a quick end, though unsatisfying, was the only option. This occurred to the horror the moment it found that the blade had penetrated its body. The same blade that had unleashed an attack which had blown its wing apart. It couldn't afford to gloat. It still pulled Nergal in, but only to end him all the more quickly that it may heal the nasty new wound that had just been inflicted upon it, and avoid being turned into a modern art masterpiece. Rather than taking several seconds to laugh it up before gulping down Nergal's head, the horror would opt for a far quicker finish.

Instead of fully wrapping about the knight's neck, the sharp tongue would seek to outright plunge deep into the right carotid, avoiding any armor in the way and piercing through any layers of protection that might be hugging the skin. The tip of the tongue was as sharp and as hard as any of the monster's teeth, and hollow. It would be like a fat kid with a juice box. The juice box crinkles up and collapses in on itself. Except here, the juice box was Nergal's throat, and the fat kid just so happened to be the baddest quarter-ton vampire this side of the macroverse.

Nergal's blood pressure would drop instantly, the blood supply to his brain becoming virtually nonexistent. He would pass out the moment the Magna Pater started drinking, without even the cognitive ability to initiate a suicide bomb.