[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    was blinded and deafened by the blast, as expected, the light making him shut his eyes and wince as a brief, sharp, profound pain hit him, striking deep into his skull before becoming an ache that rapidly began to ebb. He turned to see the damage and couldn’t help but smile even as he wheeled about towards her and then quickstepped in, already preparing for a close range strike with the Beastflayer in its closed, glaive form.

Ophelia’s voice rang out mid-quickstep and a grim determination set in. Farren shifted his target slightly, noticing the red glow of intense heat from within Fulmen. He knew immediately it would be more fragile in that state…and the core was difficult enough to damage already, by his estimation. It likely wasn’t safe to strike with, especially while it was still open. [color=#007FFF][b]“Torquil, withdraw!”[/b][/color]

Farren didn’t want to risk damage to the prototype, but there wasn’t time for further words, he’d closed the distance, and now it was time to strike. Already swinging, Farren’s blade at an odd angle, not to sheer away at the limb. The bones would be too durable, especially in a beast this taken by the Old Blood–and so large besides–so instead he had nearly aligned the Beastflayer with the direction of the Profane Blade’s length and driven it in a sweeping strike meant to damage fingers and apply sufficient force that the hand would loosen, or even be pushed off the end of the grip of the massive weapon. Given that he’d begun the motion mid-quickstep, he’d had a moment to focus, and it would be a Heavy Strike, rather than a more glancing, swift blow.