[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    braced for it, but the strange sensation of moving [i]without a form[/i], and indeed, without a proper awareness of the movement itself–still struck him with a fierceness. When they arrived he didn’t stumble, but one hand went out as he ‘caught his balance’ despite being in a totally stable position. He followed the others, but had an odd realization that…without form or context, apparently a lot of normal experiences just…lost meaning entirely. Movement, chiefly, in this case. Walking down that hall, approaching the vast chamber in which he knew this Arrayah dwelled, he realized that he really only understood he was moving because of the points of feedback from his body and the sense of details shifting as he passed the different signs of wear and tear in the hallway.

How bizarre.

Farren shook himself and focused as they entered the room. Finally he beheld their adversary, but having only heard her described–and having briefly caught her foul odor when she’d beheaded him–Farren honestly wished he’d never seen her.

Her almost centipede, twisted form, misshapen head, and endlessly writhing asymmetrical rows of limbs just unsettled him to his core. Still, he just squared his jaw and moved to draw the Beastflayer from his back. However, Arrayah was faster and as she chose him as her target, Farren’s eyes widened–then narrowed in the next instant.

His hands blurred into two downwards sweeps and rather than draw Beastflayer, Farren snatched two blunderbusses from their hooks, levered them up in a shift of wood and metal, and then unloaded them, one after the other right as she grew near enough to catch their full spray.

With any luck, she’d stagger, much like he’d seen the others do a handful of times to other foes–though those had been far lesser in size and sheer presence.