[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    missed, but it was more than that, even Gerlinde’s wide sweeping strikes with her whip seemed to have no effect. Was it regenerating too fast…or was this something more than mere invisibility? As these thoughts flowed through his mind along a raging river of analysis and instinctual considerations, Farren reloaded his pistol with quicksilver, holstered it, sheathed any other weapons, and then drew the Beastflayer from his back even as he stepped into a running approach. Farren reeled his weapon back, flicking and twisting his wrist as he looked up towards the ceiling swallowed in darkness. Then, not aiming at anything but the open air above, he swung in a vertical slash, the Beastflayer extended out into its cleaving ‘whip’ blade form as it swung up overhead then downwards. It wasn’t well aimed at all, but Farren had intended to aim for a spot a ways above and in front of Ophelia. Not where they thought the creature was at all. Perhaps if he wasn’t focusing on the creature…it would be possible to strike it.

It didn’t do any of them any good as somehow, he pulled the strike back–not even meaning to–before the elongated whip-blade would have ever reached its undetectable target.

Farren’s eyes narrowed. He debated firing his blunderbuss at it…as there was an element of randomness there, but he had a feeling that was equally pointless. Farren did it anyways, flicking his wrist to snap the beastflayer’s segments back into place as it came back towards him, at the same time he drew the blunderbuss and fired in the unseen beast’s general direction.

Nothing changed, [color=#007FFF][b]“Gods dammit,”[/b][/color] he hissed…then surged forward in a quickstep directly at Ophelia. As he moved, he holstered the spent blunderbuss, drew a blood vial and slammed the ‘flayer back into its place on his back. All in a blink.

In sequence, if nothing struck him off course or otherwise impeded him, Farren would slam a blood vial into Ophelia’s side with his left hand, depressing it, even as he effectively tackled her with the other, using his momentum and considerable weight to try and push, drag, and pull her to her left (forward for him) in an attempt at getting her off whatever was impaling her…even if it meant tearing the blade out of her side and through his own fucking body. He braced for pain, be it from his maneuver itself…or attacks he couldn’t even perceive coming.