Strygwyr let out a yelp as he slammed into solid stone. Bits of rock wall fell with a small cloud of dust behind him as he crumpled to the ground. The fortress wall had been the softer of the two hits he had just taken. Momentarily dazed, he shook his head and rolled onto his front. On his tonfas and knees, he staggered, crawling a few steps with his arms as he tried to get up, struggling for breath. The warrior's strength was incredible. One solid hit had nearly broken his body completely. His ears perked up quickly. Broding was approaching, like the slow march of death, and Strygwyr felt an electric surge of panic. "Flayed twins... send me strength." He prayed shakily, as he more actively began to scramble to his feet and move away. The pain was slowing him dangerously. Healing as rapidly as possible, but far from whole, he dive-rolled away at the very last second, seeking to distance himself. The chase was on once again, with Strygwyr seemingly at the disadvantage.
Now actively running, and occasionally even tripping and crashing into things, Strygwyr looked avidly for his next opportunity. Jumping off crates and structures, he eventually gained the height of an inner wall inside the courtyard. The barbarians cursed at him, jeering at him, for his lack of honor. Strygwyr looked back down at them with a sneer, as if he had eyes. But, there was also a startled young infantryman upon that wall who hadn't been expecting a violent and bloodthirsty monster to appear at full speed. Yet, to say the boy was actually upon that wall any longer though would have been a lie, for by the time you read this, his feet were dangling above it, his body suspended on Strygwyrs two blades as he was lifted up by the furious seeker.
The blood of the naive young man was refreshing as it rained down from his wounds, and Strygwyr's malicious grin returned. Promptly he turned, and with his own enhanced strength, hurled the gravely wounded body over his shoulder at Broding to knock him down. Strygwyr's sly smile and viscious chuckle revealed that he yet had tricks up his sleeve, and he was about to use them. "You are indeed a great warrior, Chosen of Amon." He started. "The Twins would approve of your worship. It's too bad you have chosen to die." In a sadistic mannor, the blood hunter still seemed pleased about the prospect of killing Broding, nonetheless. Holding his blades out to his sides he opened his arms, calling to his masters. "Flayed Ones, hear me. Be it your will, I invite you... Come to me. Let your will be mine and take what is yours!" Even as he spoke, something seemed to be changing. A soft red glow began to come from under his hood, where his eyes should have been. Strygwyr's heart sped up and he seemed to grow just a little in size. What faced the barbarian warrior now, was a possessed jackle, devoid of fear, crazed, and blind to all but its starvation for vitae. Strygwyr crouched low on the wall, senseless to reason or even language as he 'stared' maniacally at the large warrior. In but a single breath, he launched himself in a series of super-fast, violent attacks that were clearly more powerful than before. The beast was insane, moving so fast and cutting the warrior as if he were a doll. This time, Strygwyr wasn't dodging. He was too close! Broding was going to have to get him out from inside his defenses or lose a leg, if not more.
