Rohaan felt the body he held between his feline teeth suddenly go slack, and he finally released the crazed elf. Good riddance. Rohaan wasn't a murderous sort of man--he didn't just kill for fun. But he was no stranger to it, and he would absolutely kill a man if it seemed practical. This was more than practical, it was necessary. Rohaan let the jaguar form go, and he morphed quickly back into his usual shape. There was blood on his face from where his teeth had pierced Thoburas' arm; Rohaan spat a mouthful of blood out and wiped his lips on the hem of Thoburas' robe. 

"Well..." he swayed a little, exhausted as he panted for air. "Glad that's over--ack!" His face wrinkled tightly as he sensed some magical shift in the air that put an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Coupled with the blood residue, it was a horribly metallic taste that made him feel like he'd been sucking on an iron ball. He spat again, just to clear his mouth. The pulsating orb of energy morphed a little; Thoburas' visage was discernible from beyond whatever dark border kept his spirit at bay. It floated ominously towards Ash, and Rohaan tensed as if to tackle it, but the thing just sort of...melted away. He watched it go. "Huh...that's...you don't think that's a problem, do you? Also WHY are you keeping that thing?" He gestured to the dagger. "You watched all that and you wanna carry it around? Give the horrible thing to a smith and melt it down, I say." He shuddered, remembering how it felt to hold. 

The shifter, ever the opportunist, began to search Thoburas' pockets for anything interesting. He did a cursory scan of the room, though if there had been much of value or interest in there, he'd personally either burned it to ash or melted it in his battle fury. Pity there wasn't any food, he thought as his stomach started to growl. Rohaan blinked, remembering with a start that both of them had been injured to some degree in the fight. For Ash, it was mostly her neck, but Rohaan managed to get himself cut with some poor idiot's sword in the fighting. It wasn't much, just a clean slice on his arm, but his shirt sleeve now sported a patch of wet silver. He'd have to clean that soon. "How do you feel? You gonna make it out of here on your own feet?"