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The Garou was quick for its size. It had to be. But Corbin was indeed faster.
It adjusted to this, using its greater size in two ways. One was to use its reach to ensure it cut the kid whenever it could by making its swings large enough dodging wouldn't take Corbin out of the radius of the attack. The second way was to sporadically change the attack pattern, being as unpredictable in its moves as possible. This was aided in the fact its jaws and feet were also formidable weapons that it wasn't afraid to use.

Corbin was making some headway towards wounding it back however. Every strike against those powerful thighs indeed did damage, though ti felt like cutting gravel with each slice, and the wounds would start to heal of their own accord, much as Corbin's usually did by himself.

The Garou stayed silent now, focusing on doing as much damage as it could as fast as possible, before its skill wore off and the Kindred regained his abilities in full.

The pack leader had fought his way to the top... of a young heap. In a seven foot tall Crinos form, it was hard to tell how young the Garou was himself, but he hadn't expected the sudden shift in Corbin's attack routine, nor had he anticipated being shot. A simple, and stupid, mistake.

Even his unnatural toughness wasn't enough to stand up to both the slice AND a shot to the knee, and he crashed down, one leg completely disabled, the other refusing to operate correctly.
Jaws and claws still worked, and his initial reaction was to lash out with his right hand to do as much damage as he could while desperately trying to heal.

At the same time... his voodoo would finally wear off. It had after all been a mere two or three minutes since it had started and while he was skilled, nothing would stop a Kindred getting to its blood for long, even less so when La Magra was trying to sort it out too. The skill lasted half the length it should have, though the wolfman would not yet know just how screwed he suddenly was, instead trying his best to set Corbin ablaze with his slash, if nothing else.

"..."

The silence from the beast this time was clearly an effort, strained, his lip curling with anger inside. The kid shouldn't be this capable already. Then again, vampires were unnatural affronts to Gaia, they followed no rule set the beast understood or condoned.

And he knew he'd made a mistake. He hadn't had much choice, with no access to the space he'd have liked to fight at his best, but still. He knew well enough it was likely to cost him his life, just as he had when the damned woman had dragged him down here in the first place.

The last thing he would do, would be to keep his tongue. Corbin had become everything he hated, his very essence reeking of the wyrm, almost enough to stop him breathing, but in a last act of defiance, his only response was to spit at the figure in front of him, and once again... stay silent, his mind filled with his hatred for everything Corbin stood for.

"Liar. You have always preferred slow and painfu...."

The Garou was young, and hadn't come across Chimestry before. The local Kindred population was mostly Brujah and the odd lone Gangrel. No Ravnos, known at any rate. And bearing in mind he genuinely HAD been held down by black nasty shadows filled with unpleasant beasts... he had no reason not to assume the childe had the Sire's abilities.

The smell of taint was in his nose already, doubled by the Glasswalker blood on Corbin making him believe something knowing his own kind was present, and now, the illusions. Though it'd mean nothing to Corbin personally, the Garou was an Ahroun, and as such... an immense well of rage sat within him. Enough to warrant a capital R. A Rage that surfaced as the inky blackness began to seep into his body, the Wyrm, for his perception now shifted to believing the lie completely, would NOT control him, he'd rather die. He couldn't move, but he could try to make a fortress of his own mind. A fortress rigged to blow as and when the tainted entity claimed him, praying it'd leave nothing behind to lead the damned horror to his packmates.

"....uuuuck. I. DONT. DANCE."

The dance was likely something unknown to Corbin, but clearly had something to do with the Wyrm as tremors passed down the animals' flanks, fear barely held back under the anger and paniced determination.

The snarling continued, shortly to be replaced by whimpering, and the howls of pain.
The Garou wasn't in and of himself weak mentally, but he was easier to lead into falsehood than perhaps a more experienced creature would be. Thus, he not only believed that the Wyrm itself was indeed attacking him, but that the pain in his body was a result of this, rather than a wilful attack on his blood.

At this point, thinking his physical form was already lost, the Garou continued to make his mind his last bastion, but the pain was indeed beginning to over ride even this. The mention of his pack and family again brought out anger, but this time it was a tired anger, worn down and weary. He was already sagging against the hold Corbin had on him, upright only because he was being held there by arms burning with the strain of being stretched.

"That's hardly... an incentive to tell... you about them... you sick b*****d. I'd rather die. So would they."

As his heart spasmed, so did the wolf, causing his howls to come in short sharp bursts of pain, shudders trembling down his limbs.
But it also seemed Corbin had hit on the right buttons. Somethign shifted in the wolfman's eyes, the anger flickering, fading, replaced with something... hard to define.

In between spasms, with his heart behaving, the creature managed to gasp out a single question, the answer to which could give corbin what he wanted.

"Promise me... you'll give... them... the... option to... run. To just.... leave. Don't care... what happens... to me."

Collapsing with great heaves of his barrelled chest, the Garou nurtured the look of defeat about it, made all the more poignant as its Crinos form slipped and it became a he.

He was young, about 19, with shaggy brown hair and an athletic build. It was easy to see how he could be intimidating in the right circumstances, but for now, he just looked mousey and worn.

"Tell them I told them to leave, to run. And let them do so. You'll find them near the shattered oak, three clicks from the ravine to the west. If you tell Tomas I failed... they wont come back."

He spoke softly and without looking up from the stones of the cell floor, seemingly accepting of his fate.

"That depends on you. Incidentally, he's telling the truth. And I don't want more of the sodding furries on my doorstep. AGAIN. What are you going to do about it?"

Having unabashedly watched the performance, Roan now strolled back up the tunnel, handing Corbin her pack of smokes as she moved off, clearly anticipating he'd head upwards also.

Her tone implied this was not entirely an unheard of scenario in the area, and also that she was, as always, testing the kid. Watching for his response, and guaging it on some unwritten scale.