Adrian managed a half smirk as Soah ducked under, stepped in, and went for the uppercut. That wasn't a move he'd try against someone that knew what they were doing, and that's why Adrian was now confident he'd win this fight. With his free hand that was down, while still being carried forward by the momentum of his punch. He reached for his side and unsheathed his dagger, in a blur of a movement. As Soah ducked in and uppercutted, Adrian managed to stab his dagger forward as hard as he could at the exposed side chest of Soah. The both of them would connect at about the same time, the only difference is that Adrian's blow would hurt a lot more than a simple punch. Adrian was jarred as he was slammed in the chin with the uppercut. His dagger was no longer in his hand, and he was once again on his back. He felt a warm, thick liquid in his mouth. He was still conscious, but just barely. As he laid amongst the snow, once again, he wondered if the dagger had found it's mark.

Crom watched as Johnathon pulled a rough map from his bag. He hadn't quite considered that they had no set destination. It didn't bother him much either way. He was used to the traveling life by now, and was all to willing to go as far as necessary with the party, assuming they all intended to head for the same place. The soldier began trying to remember where specific cities were on the map, but his concentration was shattered by a flash of silver in what had previously been a fist fight. He realized only moments to late that Adrian had pulled a knife. Without hesitation, the tall man bounded forward. He saw Adrian take a heavy uppercut and fall to the ground. He saw the glimmer of silver fall to the snow, but couldn't tell if it'd hit Soah in the commotion. He reached the combatants and threw himself in between them, placing his heavy boot down on the dagger that Adrian had just dropped. His hand gripped the hilt of his weapon as he looked back and forth between the two. He honestly hadn't expected the fight to escalate as quickly as it had. With a gruff and commanding voice, the mercenary snarled out something that sounded more like a command than a suggestion. "That's enough you two. There's no way in hell we'll make it to the other side of these mountains if we kill each other before we get there." He glanced back and forth. Adrian seemed to be practically incapacitated. He looked over the newcomer to see if the dagger had struck it's target. "Are you hurt?"

Soah smiled as Adrian fell backwards, Soah's uppercut finding it's mark. Things seemed to deafen to Soah, though. Crom stepped in between the two of them, but Soah couldn't make out the words Crom was speaking. Then, Soah felt a warm liquid running down his side, and down his leg. For a moment, Soah wondered if it was raining or something. Soah glanced down, and saw a dagger, hilt deep, placed into his side, through his cloak. Soah blinked, and gripped the hilt. Soah's entire world started to shake, and tremble. Soah closed his eyes, and placed his other hand on the hilt. Soah focused, trying to bring the world back to him, and calm down. Soah opened his eyes, once more. His eyes turned from their normal look to now a piercing yellow color. He looked directly at Crom, making eye contact with him. Soah could feel canine-like teeth poking out from his mouth. Soah closed his eyes once more, and doubled over. The pain was nonexistent for Soah at this point. The only thing Soah could feel was a deep seated instinct to let loose and to attack his assailant. Soah took a deep breath, and with a great yank, pulled the dagger from his chest. Soah coughed, at the same moment, and blood splattered the white snow in front of Soah. Soah knew that Adrian had struck his lung with his stab. With a soft thud, Soah dropped the dagger to the carpeted ground. Soah's breathing intensified for a moment, becoming louder, and more pronounced. After a moment, Soah opened his eyes, now back to the original and normal appearance. Blood pooled in Soah's mouth, and he could feel some seeping out from the corner of his lips, "I'll fucking kill you, kid." Soah manged out, sputtering out blood as he finished his sentence. Soah took a step forward, shakily, before collapsing to one knee. Soah instantly regretted fighting back his chance to let the other side take over, as the waves of pain began to set in. Soah wondered if he could die from a wound like this, as his vision began to shake slightly.

John was still looking somewhat longingly at his old map, charting a course and hoping the other group members would feel comfortable enough to compile their travel plans when a particularly menacing thud sounded behind him. Before he could react, Crom had raced past him and by that alone he knew that something had gone terribly wrong in the fight. His heart rate climbed with fear and expectation as he righted himself and turned around. Adrian lay in the snow and standing away from him was Soah, as expected. Both combatants were bloodied and John's eyes snapped between them in an effort to discern who was hurt worse. The stream of blood issuing from Soah's side seemed to indicate that his was the more perilous situation. He was impressed to see that the young man had managed to land a hit, and worried that it had been with a dagger that, from the looks of the one now thrown into the snow, had sunk deep. Whatever spell of concern or awe held him was broken when the wounded man dropped to one knee, and John rushed forward in response. He had no clue what he was doing but the group needed bodies to get over that mountain, but not corpses. "You should lay down," He suggested to Soah, hesitant to directly approach the man regardless of his state.

Soah could hear John's words of advice, but instead of opting to listen to them, Soah shot back up to his feet. Soah emitted a low snarl, as pain racked his body. After closing his eyes for a moment, and opening them, they were once again the same piercing yellow. Soah had to focus on something besides his serious wound. Soah once again hacked up blood, covering more of the snow. Breathing was started to become problematic. Soah could feel himself edging closer to the point of no-return. Soah pulled back his cloak, and covered his wound with his hand. Soah started to try to speak, but blood filled his throat instead of words. Soah doubled over, once more, coughing up more blood. Soah righted himself, and looked at the party. Soah's features were now increasingly canine. His nose and mouth were starting to look like a faint muzzle, his finger nails had extended slightly, turning themselves into claws. Soah had also gained a bit of muscle mass. Soah took a step forward, this time with a new-found power. Blood still pooled in Soah's mouth, but Soah could feel the wound beginning to close as he gained more canine features. While the wound would heal, Soah had no idea what would happen with his lung.

Crom cursed to himself. It was clear Adrian's dagger had done some major damage. He eyed the injured man closely. Johnathon suggested he lie down. Crom was about to agree, when the young man began changing. Even the old soldier had never seen anything like it. The man's eyes had changed colors, his muscles had grown, and his face and body were shifting into something inhuman. For a brief moment Crom remembered the old legends he had heard as a child. He watched Soah carefully, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword ever tighter. "So, you were the one who caused all that shit in town." It was clear the monster they had saw earlier was the same as the young man that stood before them now. Before turning, he had threatened Adrian. Crom realized he stood between the youth, who seemed to be in no shape to fight, and the growing monster. He had no idea how to fight a werewolf, if it came to that, but he certainly had no intention of letting the creature kill them all. The mercenary's eyes narrowed, and a look of seriousness overtook him as he watched the transformation occur.

Johnathon scurried backwards as soon as the man stood up, and held his hands up to ward off or assuage the clearly irate man. Just as he had begun to wonder about Soah's temperament his physical features began to change before him. He hadn't noticed it before but this close the change to stark yellow eyes was jarring and he found himself taking another step back to think about what exactly he was seeing. As Soah's more wolfish features began to form, his mind had already put the pieces of the puzzle together. He was shocked at how unsurprised he was, considering they'd found the man half naked and covered in blood, it was obvious there had been something. The revelation that he was that werewolf was really just the natural order. Reality slowly set in over the pondering and he realized that he was staring at a bloodthirsty werewolf. He practically flew, rushing to Crom's side and taking shelter by the experienced fighter. Whatever came next, he had decided to leave and leave Soah behind: they had some potentially checkered characters among them and heat was one thing but outright harboring a werewolf among them was out of the question.

Soah stopped walking forward, and glared at Crom. Soah's yellow piercing eyes stared into Crom's eyes, "Damn right, I did." Soah snarled, as he flexed his hand that was covering his wound. Soah could feel himself starting to fully lose himself in the moment. Soah would've been able to control himself, but with Crom taking a aggressive pose, and a challenging tone, it spurred on Soah's deeper desires, "That was just a little bit of what I can do. You're getting ready to see what I can do when I'm really pissed off." Soah said, with a slightly smirk, revealing his rows of canine teeth. Soah took another step forward, and tore off his bloodied cloak, revealing a amount of muscle he didn't possess before, and his skin was covered in a thicker layer of hair. Soah, with surprising speed, started towards Crom. Soah made a quick grab towards the mercenary's hand that gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword. With Soah's other hand, he stabbed, with his razor sharp claws, into the armored torso of Crom. Soah had enough power and speed to pierce the armor, but it was doubtful he had enough to actually wound Crom with the stab.

Crom watched the werewolf before him. Soah affirmed his suspicions sarcastically and taunted the soldier. Crom didn't budge, his cold blue eyes locking with the werewolf's. "Well, show me what you've got then." he said, his voice gruff. "Johnathon, I'd suggest you move lad, this could get serious." His hand tightened around his weapon, his free hand was hidden beneath his cloak. The creature leaped forward with inhuman speed. One of the beast's claws struck out to grab his sword arm, the other stabbed towards his chest. Without a moment's hesitation, the grizzled veteran twirled around the strike with surprising grace for a man of his stature. The grab missed entirely, but the stab clipped his cloak as he turned, tearing a bit of the stained grey fabric. Not having time or room to draw his sword, the former knight acted as quickly as he could, his free hand pulling his knife from it's sheath. He flipped the knife upside down and swung a quick downward stab towards the werewolf's arm. The knife was a simple tool, likely made of iron, but it was sharp, and could do some damage. The Esterlian's mind raced. He'd have to gain a moment to draw his sword, otherwise he was at a serious disadvantage.

Soah caught himself mid-lunge, preventing himself from falling, or running into something else, as he completely whiffed on Crom. Soah then felt a dull pain in his arm. He glanced down and noticed the solider had drove a knife into his skin. It had hardly hurt, but it didn't feel good. Soah laughed for a moment. "Yeah, Johnathon. This could get serious." Soah said, with another laugh. The knife hadn't driven too deep into Soah's arm, due to his now hard, leathery flesh. Soah gripped the blade with his other hand, and placed a thumb near the hilt. As Soah righted himself, he started to press down with his thumb. If Crom didn't pull the knife out, Soah would undoubtedly soon break the knife with his ever growing inhuman strength. "You got a lot more to you than most people I've fought." Soah said, once again grinning and bearing his teeth. After a moment, Soah dived his head forward, attempting to headbutt Crom. While Crom would normally have a few inches on Soah, the transformation had also made Soah grow taller, making him just about eye-to-eye with the old veteran at this point.

Crom locked eyes with the werewolf. Clearly the knife was going to be of very little use against the monstrosity that now stood before him. He had grown quite a bit, and it was obvious he was quite strong. The tall man yanked the knife from his leathery flesh before he could try to take it from him. In the next moment, the werewolf lunged forward in an attempt to headbutt him. Crom brought his arm up in front of him, knife in hand, and braced for collision. He felt Soah's skull crack into his forearm. His boots slid back in the snow as the lycan struck him. The werewolf struck with more force than even the strongest man. Crom couldn't afford to make any mistakes in this fight, if he did he was almost certainly dead. The strike from Soah's skull bruised his off hand. The soldier backstepped from his opponent, sheathing his knife and grabbing the hilt of his sword simultaneously. The polished steel flashed as Crom drew his blade. The weapon was well made, and appeared almost delicate with it's long, slender blade, but the steel was incredibly hard, and had stood the test of countless battles. The Esterlian flourished the weapon, the afternoon light shimmering against the blade. A faint confidence filled Crom's eyes. He never felt more comfortable than he did with a sword in his hand. "Come on then," He said, his voice as gruff as ever, but now filled with a fervency that it had previously lacked. He motioned for the lycan to come closer, flourishing the blade again while backing away from the rest of the party.

Soah shook his head, as Crom made separation and drew his blade. The headbutt had felt good, and only served to help awaken more of the beast in Soah. Soah snarled, as he reached for his side, and gripped his short sword. "Alright then." Soah said, as he growled. In a quick flourish, Soah unsheathed his short sword, and in one fluid motion, flung the sword towards Crom's head. The sword would either miss, and hit a tree, or connect. If the sword connected, the force behind the throw was more than enough to take Crom's head clean off his shoulders. As soon as the blade had been flung, Soah charged forward, and attempted a diving tackle at Crom's waist, trying to drive the stone wall of a man into the ground. If Crom kept Soah at a distance, Soah would be more cut up than a turkey dinner. While Soah knew he could take that kind of punishment, he was still cognitive enough to realize that it wouldn't be a smart move. Crom might not be as strong as Soah, right now, but the man still looked as if he had the capacity to fell a tree with his sword.

Crom quickly sidestepped the weapon that had been haphazardly flung towards his face. The weapon whizzed by towards a nearby tree. The werewolf was now charging him. A well-placed stab might bring the monster down, but it also risked getting the weapon lodged inside the beast, and if he missed a vital spot he'd be torn to shreds. The werewolf made a diving tackle towards his lower body. The soldier lept sideways again to avoid the attack, knowing wrestling with a werwolf seemed like a horrible decision. The found his footing and turned towards Soah's now exposed side. He made a quick thrust towards his opponent's ribcage. The attack was quick, but still fierce, and the heavily sharpened tip of the weapon would likely pierce even the werewolf's leathery hide.

The blade slammed into the nearby tree, burying itself hilt deep into the tree, with the point poking out the other side of the bark. As Soah slid, and whiffed into the snow, cursing how quick Crom was. He could hear Crom shift, and Soah glanced up in time to see a blade being stabbed towards his exposed side. Soah rolled slightly, narrowly avoiding the blade. As the blade drove forward, Soah gripped the blade with both hands, as tight as he could. The blade was definitely in good condition. Even now, simply grabbing the blade caused Soah's hands to be sliced up and started to bleed. Soah doubt the damage would be permanent, or even that serious, due to his current state. Soah growled, now to far gone for any sort of banter, and bared his teeth. He attempted to jerk the sword towards himself, and then shoved it back towards Crom, using every inch of his inhuman power. Soah's objective was to shove the hilt of the blade into Crom's chest, and either break the warrior's grip lose, or simply catch Crom off balance.

Soah grabbed the blade of the weapon and yanked it. Crom reached forward, grabbing the weapon around it's guard with his free hand. The pul was strong, and for a moment the mercenary feared his arm might be torn from it's socket. The werewolf jolted the weapon back towards it's user. Crom's tight grip held, but he felt the decorative handguard dig into his palm. He gritted his teeth as the weapon came back towards him, but his strength kept it from knocking him down, even as the golden pommel bounced against his armored chest. With a strength impressive even for someone of his size, Crom ripped the blade away from the werewolf's clutches, nearly falling backwards as he did so. He reversed his momentum and threw his weight into an attack, moving from his heels to the balls of his feet, and brought the blade down in a quick, hard swing, towards his opponents face.

Soah was surprised at the strength the old man had, but he knew if he could get in close, he could overpower Crom. Soah watched as the thin blade came hurtling down towards him. Soah, his features growing ever more canine, raised his hairy, leathery forearm. The blade slammed into the forearm of the beast. If the blade had been of a thicker size, it's possible it might of cleaved more than half way through the arm. The sharpness, though, helped the blade pierce through the forearm, and it now found itself wedged into the werewolf's arm, almost half way through. Dull pain shot through Soah, which did nothing but keep spurring the beast that was growing. As Soah stoof up, Soah used his forearm to shuck the blade to the side, bring the blade down and out of the way. The blade could be brought out, but only with a good tug at this point. As the blade was brought to the side, Soah aimed a punch at Crom's face, more specifically at the nose of his opponent. The punch had more than enough strength to break the nose, and severely daze Crom, and maybe even knock him off balance.

Crom cursed to himself as the blade buried itself in the werewolf's arm. The pain didn't seem to even phase the werewolf, and he used the weapon being lodged in his flesh to his advantage. The creature brought the blade down and away, leaving Crom undefended. Before he could thick, Soah had thrown a punch towards his nose. There was no time to dodge. Crom turned his face to the side and gritted his teeth, taking the punch directly to the cheek. Soah's fist struck Crom firmly. The mercenary felt his cheek dig into his teeth, and felt warm blood fill his mouth. For a moment he was dazed, but he quickly shook the feeling away. Soah hit like a charging bull, but the old soldier had taken hundreds of hard hits in his life. He looked up at the beast before him, his hair hanging in front of his eyes. He smirked, and blood trickled from the side of his mouth. The soldier's blue eyes flared with a sense of pride. He seemed to be enjoying the fight, maybe as much as the feral creature in front of him. There was a reason Crom had been famous in Esterl, and he had no intention of going down without a fight. "You hit like a fucking bitch, mate." The soldier mocked his opponent, tearing his blade free of his flesh and leaping back. He used the blade's length and threw a thrust towards his opponent's abdomen. The entire motion of leaping back and striking happened in roughly a second. Crom was extremely fast with a blade.

While Soah had increased speed and strength in this form, did this not quicken his reaction time. Soah was surprised at the speed Crom moved, and was caught completely off guard. The blade pierced Soah's abdomen, drove itself fairly deep, but not too deep. This time, Soah felt pain. As Soah glanced down at the blade, he started to growing ever so taller, thicker, and hairy, with features becoming more canine. He glanced back to Crom, now almost a full head higher than the man. "I'm about to hit a lot fucking harder, cunt." Soah managed to snarl out, his voice sounding more like a dog speaking human words, than just a normal person speaking. As the last word came out, Soah spit onto Crom's face, his spittle now colored with the blood that was pooled in his mouth. Soah reared his right hand back, across his chest, and went for a simple forearm slam across Crom's face. Soah's strength was increasing substantially at this point, and the forearm slam would be enough to send Crom backwards. The blade was still buried in Soah's chest, but it seemed start being pushed out on it's own accord.

Soah's form became more monstrous after Crom landed the stab. He was now looking up to his opponent as he grew. Blood fell from the monster's mouth as he spoke, dotting Crom's tan face with streaks of red. The werewolf swung his arm at Crom with extreme force. The Esterlian ducked downward, with all the agility of a diving falcon. He felt the beast's swing touch his hair, narrowly missing a solid connection with his head. As the former knight ducked, he pulled his weapon from the wolfman's torso. His mind raced. He had never fought a creature like Soah before, but his training in fighting cavalry came to mind. A horse had a solid chest, and it was extremely difficult to pierce. However, horses were more vulnerable around their neck, and like Soah, they were taller than your average man. Crom sprung upwards with a sudden ferocity, plunging his blade upwards towards the werewolf's throat, which was now above him. He gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly with both hands and aimed his blade towards just below the werewolf's jaw, were he suspected the thick hide might be weaker. Still, Soah was proving to be quite sturdy, and it seemed unlikely that even such a vulnerable area would be soft.

With a renewed and increased speed, Soah gripped the blade before it reached his throat, stepping the thrust dead in it's tracks. Soah was still growing, and he could feel himself becoming stronger as he gripped the blade in his huge hands. With Soah's hand that had just swung at Crom, he reached down and sent a devastating punch to the sternum of Crom. With both of Crom's hands on the blade, it would be difficult to block the punch, which had considered force behind it, enough to make Crom's armor almost entirely ineffective. The battle was getting out of hand quickly, and it was evident that Soah was in no way going to stop his rampage, and with the still increasing quickness and strength, Soah was becoming more deadly of an enemy by the second. Soah was now nearly 6'7'', and complete transformation was starting to form. Not much longer, and Soah would be completely feral. As Soah sent the punch into the chest of Crom, he used his other hand and yanked up on the solider's sword. The thin blade barely even fit in Soah's hand at this point, but the main goal of trying to separate weapon from man was what Soah was aiming for.