[color=#007FFF][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    felt the ebb and shiver in his blood as they were consumed by starlight and ousted from the Waking World and into the Hunter’s Dream. It felt…different this time though, and the wavering, warping force did not stop as it had before. Neither his body, nor his mind’s capacities, felt changed, but then….

Farren coiled in on himself, falling to his knees, and he tried to clutch at both arms at once, instead resulting in no movement at all, his arms held away from his body and before him. Farren watched–and felt intimately–as his sleeves tore as little spines with glowing blue tips ripped painfully from his limbs, downwards from shoulder to wrist. He felt his skin harden, his bones soften, and the muscles, tissues, and even the blood in his arms subtly, then drastically change. He cried out as his hands each grew an extra digit, then extra knuckles on each finger as they lengthened. Farren cursed in a vicious whisper as sharp, curved, hook-like claws burst forth from where once his nailbeds had been, eclipsing his fingertips slightly as if he’d always had the nasty jet-black carapace talons.

[color=#007FFF][b]“Agh…[i]fuck[/i]. Damned…[i]cursed[/i] blood,”[/b][/color] Farren gritted out hoarsely, the changes beginning to settle. In the tearing, viscerally painful heat of the transformation, he’d briefly dropped both the Effigial and True Blade of Mercy. Slowly, the pain began to ebb, leaving behind only the strange, alien sensations of blood and hemolymph interchanging within his body, as if he had always been that way. Farren moved to clutch at his skull, which ached from grinding his teeth during the process, but stopped well before as he saw the curled talons of his fingers, and the glowing ridge along the back edge of the claws which blinked in bright blue bioluminescence like some deep sea fish.

The aches ceased, replaced only by the far too noticeable internal pulse of fluids through both limbs whenever he moved. The motions felt jerky and uncontrolled even as his body adjusted and his brain accounted for the changes. Farren’s deep agonized grimace relaxed only into a disgusted glower as he stared helplessly at his own transmogrified arms.

[color=#007FFF][b]“That…mmgh…”[/b][/color] he winced as he flexed, then relaxed each finger in sequence. [color=#007FFF][b]“Mmm…I…envy the two of you,”[/b][/color] Farren said frankly, not looking up at Gerlinde or Ophelia, still trying to process the changes. He began, despite the discomfort, trying different, larger, and subtler motions and eventually he reached down and grasped both weapons. It took two tries before he found a somewhat comfortable manner to hold the implements and he knew already that some actions would be significantly more difficult than they once had been. Shifting the nature of his grip from forward to reverse was one he could immediately think of. Fortunately, there were limited uses for a reversed grip, so things certainly could have been worse. The real problem would be sheathing and drawing other weapons.

Farren pushed slowly to his feet, knees wobbling a moment from adrenaline, then calming as his body swiftly returned to equilibrium. Farren rolled his shoulders and carefully sheathed both weapons. He flexed the faintly glowing claws and carefully pushed up one of his sleeves to confirm that–yes–the entirety of the skin on his arm had become a glossy jet-black carapace. Though…the spines on his arms did seem to occasionally drip some form of rather viscous looking mucous. He wrinkled his nose at the sight, [i]‘Disgusting’[/i].

His only recourse was that if he were disarmed, temporarily or otherwise, at least he could still rip and tear into his adversary.

[color=#007FFF][b]“Well…I suppose…it could be worse,”[/b][/color] he muttered, despite the fact that it did not make him feel the least bit better.

Farren glanced to Ophelia then, [color=#007FFF][b]“One of us…[i]not[/i] myself or Torquil, that is…should try to approach Yahar’gul and see if she blocks their path. It…will give me time to adjust…and provide us with the valuable intel that she can be wherever she chooses, as swiftly as we can use a lantern to get there.”[/b][/color]

He again raised a hand to rub at a temple, but stopped just shy of clawing himself. His eyes narrowed and his lips fell in displeasure and he lowered his taloned hand with a heavy sigh. Farren hated the change, hated that the very blood that empowered him and kept him from death, could also betray him like this. Hated the warping and twisting of his body, and the mental adjustments he had to make to account for it all. However, he was not so foolish–nor so selfish or stubborn–to suggest a return to the Hall of the Old Lords. This was a change he could manage, at least, no matter how unwelcome it was.

[color=#007FFF][b]“That aside...”[/b][/color] he exhaled sharply and pulled in another breath as he noticed himself unconsciously adjusting the position of his arms, for comfort...which only resulted in another pulse of strange unsettling sensation that accomplished quite the opposite, [color=#007FFF][b]“--I think using mid-ranged weaponry to strike at her eyes...or firearms at range to do much the same is likely the best way.”[/b][/color] Farren figured that while perhaps they could not catch her off guard, that they could at least attack before she managed to ensnare them.