[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]                  was, for only a handful of instants, half-stunned into inaction. He’d expected the rush, expected the charge and even the sudden motion of the quicksteps. When Skinner didn’t discard the body immediately, Farren [i]knew[/i] what was coming next. Yet, what he hadn’t expected was the massive figure’s sheer speed. Further, the transformation, the shifting of flesh and cloth into fur like some twisted sped-up beastly metamorphosis.

Farren’s eyes widened at the sight, but he didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate. Adrenaline hit him all at once as if just catching up with the rapidly procession of events. For a moment it was like everything had slowed to a crawl. He forced himself not to blink despite the urge to, and widened his eyes instead. [i]‘Not fucking this time,’[/i] he thought and before he had more than an instant to consider, he was already moving. His muscles coiled, twisted, almost felt like they might snap or tear, and then with force that still surprised him, Farren quickstepped.

A surge of motion, a blur that carried him sideways even as he shifted his arms and braced his shoulder for an impact. It came what felt like less than a moment later, his shoulder slamming into the dead body even as he braced his left leg–having approached from Torquil’s right side–and used it to half shift and half arrest his movement. He shoved the body to the side with the force of his dash and followed up with a swing of his left blade, at the very least intent upon intercepting Skinner’s opening strike even as Farren positioned the tip of his other blade so it would aim towards the man’s chest. The blade was angled slightly up from where he held it at his waist level. He hadn’t thrust it forth yet, but it was clear that depending on the bastard’s reaction, another strike could be forthcoming.