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[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
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Evenly matched though they might have been in a vacuum, neither Fianna nor the Ogre was alone. While she'd originally intended to rush right back into the fray to push her advantage, it seemed that her allies decided to take this moment to intervene, even as she had already begun to dash towards her prey once more, rapidly closing the distance. The tiny hunter who'd called out to her before launched into the beast in a flurry of slashes and flames, and when she was at last caught in the beast's grip and hurled back down to the earth, the shieldbearer joined the fray as well, smashing the creature's legs and bringing it to its knees.

Her every instinct wanted to fling her upon the fallen beast -- to rip and tear its flesh away and feast upon the power within. But what little remained of her sanity held fast to the frayed thread of her consciousness, steering her away from this melee. If she dived in now, both her wounded allies might get caught up in her rampage -- and the last thing she wanted to do was fell a fellow Hunter -- particularly not those who were acquitting themselves so valiantly against such a mighty foe.

So, instead, she leaped into the air, kicking off the fallen ogre's shoulder and jumping over it, towards where the retreating survivors of the guard platoon were desperately trying to drag themselves out of the fray, still harried by the half-dozen or so void goblins that remained. Retreating as the guards were, they weren't likely to get in her way... and while these lesser creatures were hardly prey that could sate her hunger, they'd be ample fodder to prepare her for her next tilt at the ogre.

One of the goblins was mid-leap at a fallen guard when a shadow fell over it, and a massive blade skewered it cleanly through the torso. Its ribs cracked and caved inward as the flesh ran off them, liquefying and all collapsing inward towards the blade that had erupted from its body. By the time she landed, it was already little more than an emaciated husk that crumbled into dust as she continued to follow the momentum of the hefty blade affixed to her arm, landing on the tips of her toes and hopping forward with each swing like a crane above the surface of a lake. It was an uncanny, yet graceful dance -- more the movements of a bird of prey than a human being, as her whole body followed behind the weight of her weapon.

One goblin turned, and was reduced to a fine red mist as her massive sword carved through its upper body. She stumbled forward with her momentum, but hopped upright once again, turning a full circle to decapitate two more enemies attempting to flank her. Their black-tainted blood gushed like a fountain into the air, even as she raised the blade high overhead, bringing it down like a guillotine to split her next victim vertically, before lunging through the crumbling halves of his body to skewer a fifth foe hiding in his shadow. Her birdlike pirouette ended, and her blade came to rest on the flagstones below, drinking deep of the blood that now soaked them.

A cry split the air as the final goblin leaped at her from the left, its jaws opened wide as it lunged at her throat. She didn't even turn to face it. With a squelch, a greenish-hued "arm" erupted from her empty socket, its ten-fingered hand clenching around the goblin's head mid-leap. The creature's cry died in its throat as its skull popped like an overripe grape, and its headless body contorted and ruptured, its bones compacting and muscles twisting as it was sucked into a vast, toothy maw that opened in the palm of her new hand, devouring the creature in a single gulp.

That took care of the petty distractions, then. Which meant all that remained was...

A sickening squelch split the air, and Fianna blinked in momentary surprise as she turned to see what exactly had caused it. It seemed that the ogre, not to be outdone, had used its own head as material to summon a replacement arm of its own, either severing or liquefying the corroded limb before grafting on a black, shadowy appendage that dripped and oozed with unnatural ichor. It seemed that in depriving it of one arm, she'd only given it the means and the inclination to replace it with a significantly more deadly one. Perhaps this was how her own enemies felt... Well, not that it mattered.

After all, each of them had two arms again -- so it was still a fair fight. Or at least, it would have been... if the creature was paying any attention to her. Unfortunately, its focus seemed to be entirely elsewhere -- specifically, on the still fallen young Hunter who had set it ablaze just moments before. Her wounds must not have healed yet, and, laying prone as she was at the bottom of a small impact crater, she was a sitting duck.

Well, whatever. Weaklings died. That was nothing new. While its attention was elsewhere, she could strike its already-wounded back, and perhaps even reach its heart this time. The girl would make a perfectly suitable diversion for her to achieve a quick and decisive victory, and then she could [i]feed.[/i] There was no time for hesitation or sentiment, so --

[color=#CB0B53]"[i]Shut up.[/i]"[/color]

She sprinted at the ogre faster than her thoughts could be twisted, giving a loud roar to draw its attention as she slid between its legs and coming up on the other side just in time to raise her sword. Its shadowy arm came down, claws extended, ready to rip the girl behind her to shreds -- only to find those same claws deflected by the crimson form of Amaryllis as she trapped them in one of the large grooves along the weapon's dull spine. Bracing her newly regenerated off-hand against the back of the blade, she wrenched its first strike aside with her newly increased leverage, even as a large tendril of goblin flesh erupted from her tailbone, coiling itself around the body of the young Hunter behind her and tossing her clear of the crater.

Then the ogre's other hand struck home, and where once had been standing a white haired huntress, there was just a spray of crimson droplets and a few twitching pieces of meat and bone. A crimson sword, still attached to a sticky mass of gore, was ripped free by the resultant explosion of viscera, and flew high in the air, spinning end over end before sticking sideways into the wall of the tower overlooking the courtyard -- where it hung motionless, the "limb" still grafted to its handle flapping limply in the wind...