Jarold sat still as a statue in the Bush, he feared no evil, yet he found that when he saw this foul hellspawn, he had begun to shiver, the beast was humongous, he had to look up in order to see it's twisted face, Jarold had no idea what hell looked like, but when he saw that beast, he knew that hell would look exactly like that monster.

Jarold took out a silver hatchet, not that the silver would help much against this monster, the hatchet used to be used for the peaceful work of chopping trees, but now it had been re purposed as a tool for chopping heads, after all to Jarold, every beast of the night was just a tree for him to chop, he took out a vial of manticore poison and poured it on the axe head, his hand shaking as he did so. he silently prayed that the first blow would kill the monster, Jarold was strong but this monster would give him more than a little headache.

The Monster's word's fell upon deaf ear's, Jarold does not run. He suddenly leaped out of the bush holding the hatchet in his right arm, he threw the poisoned hatchet in a arc towards the creatures skull, he had one shot, one opportunity, now he just had to capture it before he let it slip.

@Lurking Shadow

Troy laid against the cold snow, resting. Moving yourself around when your soul was so weak was... tiring, to say the least. Troy would gather up his energy, throw himself a couple feet, and then rest. The process was agonizingly slow... But thankfully, he was spared some of the inconvenience of life, such as the freezing cold or the boredom. Having a wielder would have made the trip much quicker, but it seemed no one in Newton was willing to pick up a revolver that was just lying in the middle of the street. They were even less tempted when said revolver flew several feet down the street. But in times like these, being cautious of the supernatural was a great way to stay alive, so he really couldn't blame them.

Hours passed, and finally, Troy had made it onto main street. The area seemed pretty empty, which wasn't a big surprise. Ever since the winter began, people have tried to stay inside for warmth. Troy continued to make his way down the street, hopping a couple feet forwards as the minutes passed. Eventually, he saw his opening - a young man, with runes and potions dangling from his person, exited a small bar and was making his way towards another building. This was his chance! Troy attempted to lunch himself, block the man's path, but he was just to tired - he had jumped only a few seconds prior, and doing it again would be too exhausting. Instead, Troy watched helplessly as the young man walked into the sheriff's office.

"Shit..."

The kid looked promising as well - somebody wearing runes on his person was much less likely to reject a supernatural entity like Troy. Seeing this as his golden opportunity, Troy carefully positioned himself to be as noticeable as possible, directly on the front step of the Sheriff's door. Someone was bound to come along, and hopefully they'd take him for the ride. Worst case scenario, Troy was fully loaded, and pulling a trigger was a lot easier than launching yourself forwards.