From deep in her chest there rumbled a hearty laugh, gouts of Fog spilling forth with each bark. She pushed the trigger lever far enough to hear the first click whilst she excused her outburst, “I apologize for laughing, but… Surely you understand why I find it rich when a cannibalistic beast questions my humanity.”

Another slow nod, “Yes, I do. I also understand that only one of us can leave this field. If I am to be honest…”

The creature sat, crossing its legs and placing its hands in its lap in a strange, contortionist manner that looked very limiting. “I wish for death, yet my survival instincts won’t let me. All I can do to keep my beastly self at bay is play along, try to moderate the urges. This is no way to live,” it pleaded as a flicker of humanity flashed through its eyes. For a moment, they looked like the eyes of a scared young man.

“The moment you strike at me the beast will take control, it won’t let go until you’re dead and I’ve fed. It’ll take me some time to get out of this position, you should be fast enough to take off an arm. Don’t bother with my head until you’ve crippled me, my body will keep moving for long enough to kill you.”

It explained what it thought to be its weaknesses in such a pleading, calm voice that it made Zel want to ask more questions. After all, the beast wouldn’t come out unless she struck the first blow.

“Who were you before this?”

A blank stare. “I was a soldier,” said the creature as it turned its gaze aside, rambling on. Waiting for the first blow. “A dead man walking, fated to be among the thousands cut down by some Grekurian hero’s magic sword. In my time at the academy I learned of the Fog, in my free time I sifted through old stories and found the grains of truth hidden in the fables. I read between the lines, did the rituals, ate a man alive while he screamed and begged for his life. In the morning I was a living weapon, ready to lay waste to the Grekurian invaders. Three days later, they took the capital. The war was over. I fled through the countryside, indiscriminately killing and eating anyone whose skin was darker than snow...”

The beast trailed off, and while it did, Zel listened, but she also prepared herself. First the exhalation. “Lover’s Breath…” she uttered with the last of her breath, mentally focusing on her most vivid memory of the night before. Her assumption turned out to be correct when she found herself breathing heavily, ropes of silver Fog flooding out of her and lust gripping her body - lust for battle, lust for victory, but lust nonetheless, even without a carnal framing.

This feeling was familiar. This was the same exhilaration she felt when she faced down the rot-bear, she was alive. Although she allowed herself to slip into a battle-trance such as this, Zel was fully lucid, her mind racing as she speculated on what the beast could possibly do and how to most quickly eliminate it.