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The man let out a long, high pitched whine as he watched the two running off into the distance. His eyes watered up, and he almost, almost, considering running after them.

In fact, he started to, but after four steps started huffing and puffing, and finally gave it up.

Slowly he lumbered onto the sidewalk, and started down the street, to a place a little bit farther along on The Strip. The glowing Neon Pizza Sign drawing him like a moth to flame.

The man sniffed at the air again. And with a speed and agility that seemed wholly unnatural for something so, rotund, it pivoted on its right foot, coming around to land on the balls of his feet, sniffing at the air before him.

He swallowed slowly, and like a freight train he started off towards the delicious scent. Slowly at first, moving barely more than a crawl, he started picking up speed.

His footsteps sounded like a stampede as he started barrelling towards Owle, and Rage.

Too bad there wasn't a lumberjack around, because someone definately needed to shout "TIMBEEEEER!".

The man wasn't moving all that quickly, not compared to how fast an inshape human could have. But he was big. And that was a lot of momentum. As his target disappeared from his immediate sight, he tried to stop. He balanced on his toes, trying to keep from going over.

Then... then he hit that little ball of scales, and down went the mammoth. His arms windmilled, and he let out a startled cry, finally hitting the ground, hands first, but still taking quite a crash. The imapct seemed to rattle the very sidewalk under Owle's scales.

He groaned softly as he rolled over onto his back, and started clawing his way up to a sitting position.

The oddest thing happened as Owle brought the staff down on him. Rather than the hard wood on skull impact you'd expect, it was almost, squishy. Like hitting some wierd type of beanbag. And it seemed that if the man was hurt, he wasn't hurt too badly.

He sniffed at the air again, and propelled himself forward with his hands, first onto his feet in a crouch, then over towards Owle in a flying tackle, head first, towards her. It wasn't particularly graceful, but it was a large projectile. His mouth opened wide, and a strange rumbling sound came from deep inside him.

Where as the staff seemed to get absorbed and deflected, the knife lanced right on through his shoulder (Logical first nonhead area you could reach). It felt, odd. Again not at all like Owle might have expected stabbing a humanoid to be. More like she was cutting a block of warm lard. There wasn't even that much blood. Sure, there was some, but not as much as you might think.

Oh, but how that man howled, he howled and howled even as he continued forward. There was a lot of momentum behind the tackle, and a thin little Owlie Arm wasn't going to completely stop it.

So he barreled on forward, jabbing himself on the knife even as he was falling on top of Owle. His mouth reached out, going for a little revenge nibble. The open jaws clamped down on her shoulder, hard. He was twisting his head, wrenching his teeth as he latched down on her shoulder, trying to take a chunk out of it.

The attempt would only last for three second though, before he tried to push off her and cover his wound.

The man would bite down, not into flesh, but into tough, armored scales as hard as metal. They didn't taste much better, either. Odds were good that this guy couldn't just bite through them.

Owle felt the impact as his teeth scraped on her scales, and felt his body fall atop hers, sending her spawling to the concrete.

She relinquished her grip on the knife, and somehow managed to keep her head head from too jarring an impact.

"Get off of me!" she screamed, a second knife lancing out of her stomach, into his gut.

She wouldn't stop him from pushing off her; hell, she'd help him get the hell away, wriggling and writhing to try and put some distance between them.

"Help me! somebody please ******** style="font-size: 5px">ing help me!...

And with that the voice of the purple blur amongst the bigger blur vanished off into the distance.

What little of the voice was heard sound like horrible shrieks of the living dead lost in the wind. Or just Tweak screaming himself hoarse as he tried to keep the wind from suffocating him with all that was oncoming in this little jog from Hell.

Not counting that he had shut his eyes because looking was scary and painful.

"Rage!" Never in her life had Owle been so glad to see him. She couldn't believe what she had done...knifing some random guy, even if he had attacked her first. Rage would take care of it, she would be okay...

Using the moment the large man was distracted, Owle scrambled to her feet and jumped away from the big guy...who was currently between her and Rage.

"This guy attacked me, Rage! Just came out of the blue and jumped me!"

What's wrong with him...?

Then a blur shot by them all, and Owle could only blink as her hair fluttered in the wake of its passage.

"...Athan?"