None who've been summoned here recognize it either. We can only hope there's answers in Nirvana.
[Which sounds utterly ridiculous to him and some of that disparaging thought about whether nor not Nirvana holds all the answers edges its way into his tone while the grim but somewhat mindless process of dismembering the monster continues. And for him, it's definitely dismemberment; he's watching the one Diarmuid is seeing to, and keeping track of how much damage it takes to actually stop the thing, how many heads needed to die before the whole stopped moving.
'All of them' apparently, its efforts to crawl right up the spear to get at Lancer proving to be a feeble effort at most. Both halves are at least, dying. Slowly, and with no reactions that suggest pain, only hunger and almost mindless persistence, which might be why an intended quick and merciful kill gradually becomes a patient puncture what would be vital points on a normal person one by one until it stops trying to climb his sword or reach him with scrabbling, hungry fingers.
It's grotesque.]
If you mean by way of lost strength or power, that's a common thread. As far as I have learned, no-one is where they should be, unless it is a completely mundane skill. The ... monsters we are becoming seem to fill in the gaps, however incompletely.
[This comes with a sobriety that suggests he's being completely honest, and not bothering with things like half-truths or deceptions to try to spin a story.
The last feeble efforts of the bisected and now thoroughly kabobed monster is ignored in favor of stepping with catlike finickiness and grace around the spreading blood pool with a frown; this one doesn't dissolve into useful energy as the previous did, some hungry monster will see to it eventually.]
... I myself lack much of the resilience and regeneration I ordinarily possess, and none of my spells function at all.
[That's sharply and deliberately candid when speaking to an armed stranger, a gamble that may eventually pay off.]
no subject
[Which sounds utterly ridiculous to him and some of that disparaging thought about whether nor not Nirvana holds all the answers edges its way into his tone while the grim but somewhat mindless process of dismembering the monster continues. And for him, it's definitely dismemberment; he's watching the one Diarmuid is seeing to, and keeping track of how much damage it takes to actually stop the thing, how many heads needed to die before the whole stopped moving.
'All of them' apparently, its efforts to crawl right up the spear to get at Lancer proving to be a feeble effort at most. Both halves are at least, dying. Slowly, and with no reactions that suggest pain, only hunger and almost mindless persistence, which might be why an intended quick and merciful kill gradually becomes a patient puncture what would be vital points on a normal person one by one until it stops trying to climb his sword or reach him with scrabbling, hungry fingers.
It's grotesque.]
If you mean by way of lost strength or power, that's a common thread. As far as I have learned, no-one is where they should be, unless it is a completely mundane skill. The ... monsters we are becoming seem to fill in the gaps, however incompletely.
[This comes with a sobriety that suggests he's being completely honest, and not bothering with things like half-truths or deceptions to try to spin a story.
The last feeble efforts of the bisected and now thoroughly kabobed monster is ignored in favor of stepping with catlike finickiness and grace around the spreading blood pool with a frown; this one doesn't dissolve into useful energy as the previous did, some hungry monster will see to it eventually.]
... I myself lack much of the resilience and regeneration I ordinarily possess, and none of my spells function at all.
[That's sharply and deliberately candid when speaking to an armed stranger, a gamble that may eventually pay off.]