[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    watched as each strike whittled away at Arrayah, not visibly slowing her mutagenic regeneration, but at least causing constant change. Furthermore, every strike seemed to elicit greater wailing in that haunting, shrill, beastial tone Arrayah had taken on. Then, all at once, after a brief scrambling of the borderline unclothed Gerlinde up the twisted monstrosity’s form, Farren caught the glint of three spikes that drew his gaze. Eyes widening, the sight of the tool stirred a brief memory of something he’d seldom seen, but nonetheless knew of. Farren wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever borne witness to the use of one such explosive implement, but some part of him must at least have known its function–or the stories of the terrible wounds they could inflict–for he drew up one arm as the Beastflayer withdrew and shielded his eyes in the moment just before the detonation.

Even with the slight distance, shrapnel tore into him, each its own searing point of sharp heat. The only blessing that he had not been closer, well…that and the fact that his body quickly ‘spat out’ the shrapnel and mended. Still, Farren grimaced, shook himself and then peered past his upraised arm to see what had come of both ally and adversary.

The former, gone; the latter, remained. Yet, it had not been fruitless, for Arrayah appeared stunned and the sight of that stirred something furious, cold, and [i]starving[/i] in Farren’s gut.

Like the cold azure of his gently gleaming eyes, a formless flame burned in his belly and without hesitation he locked his glaive back into its static state. With only a single thought in his head–if one could call such a thing a thought at all–Farren quickstepped across the intervening distance between him and Arrayah.

As the space shrunk to nearly nothing, Farren wheeled back his free left hand, and right as he came out of the blurred motion of his quickstep he tore his bulging, briefly clawed hand directly into Arrayah’s chest. The visceral wetness of essential fluids, the unpleasant, discomforting warmth within Arrayah’s chest cavity greeted his awareness. Farren grasped at whatever his warped and shifting limb could find therein and then–with a snarl–he wrenched back his hand from Arrayah’s fallen form.

A spray of blood and gore struck his face, his eyes gleamed more prominently in the dim, and Farren raised the Beastflayer, hiking it up with the momentum of that motion so that he held it just below the still flaming blade of the glaive. Then he drove it down directly towards–and hopefully into–the top of her skull.

[color=#007FFF][b]“Cursed beast,”[/b][/color] he hissed, more to himself than anything.