[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    was moving in one moment, and rocked into stillness the next. He struggled, indeed he writhed and contorted and fought, but to no avail, his adversaries swiftly closing in. Farren clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and braced himself for whatever twisted terrors were about to befall him.

Then there was a whistle, a crack, a blooming flower of flame, and then blinding searing heat.

It was different from the crackling sharp flash-burn of lightning that was searing pain, convulsing muscle and then black numbness. This was like a wave of molten heat, melting pain that spread from the surface inwards, but not all at once. Farren let out one agonized emanation before he managed to clench his teeth down so only his lips and face were seared–his eyes shut reflexively before the wave properly hit him.

He heard the noises of the Twisted Messengers, the sound of heavy running strides from the direction of the cabin behind him, the tumble of one, then two bodies against dirt and stone and flora. His prison released him, the constriction suddenly gone, his weight suddenly fully on his own feet again. Farren staggered back one, two, three steps. He was already half healed, then more…but he felt pinpricks of scintillating fire all over. Quicksilver, his mind told him, catching up.

Farren’s eyes snapped open, swiveled to the right, locked on the Messenger there that had begun to recover. Though not a proper Hunter’s tool, Farren drew his dagger in a whip-fast motion, flicking his wrist in a swift surprisingly accurate throw directly at the Messenger’s center mass. The thoroughly sharpened, if otherwise mundane knife, sailed through the air towards its target, but Farren was already acting further, having snapped his blades back into one and drawn his Hunter’s Pistol. He brought it up in a swift draw and fired directly at the same Messenger’s skull.

His body twisted, back to the Messenger he’d struck as he let the pistol find its hook at his belt. Then he quickstepped. This time he moved at a slight acute angle from straight on, intending to arrive behind or to one side of the other recovering Messenger. The angle of his movement was an attempt to not be fired at head on like he had been prior. If he arrived unimpeded, Farren would use the momentum of his movement to turn on his heel–shifting it into centrifugal force–which he’d used to attempt to cleave the Twisted Messenger in half.