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Standing atop the decimated form of a massive idol is a slim man at least seven feet in height with incredibly long arms. A black trenchcoat billows out behind him as streams of darkness dance away to oblivion upon the winds. A wide brimmed hat obstructs his eyes, through from the hidden optics a bright blue glow emits with sporadic pulses of the deepest crimson. A thick black fluid drips down the idol from where the creature tightly grips his left hand with his right. Blood runs from a series of slash marks that run parallel to a crudely done patch job where it seems a hand that does not belong was grafted on.

((Nah, ya got a week and a couple days, so says teh Vintrict.))

The black stain perched atop the ruined idol slowly crouches, still clutching his bleeding wrist. Cold dead eyes glanced down to the hand before he raised it to his mouth, his jaw distending as his lips and cheeks slip open. Inserting the hand into his mouth he clamped down and ripped it from his arm, chewing on the decaying biomatter before swallowing. A skeletal structure began to form where his bleeding hand had been, though instead of waiting for it to form his arm convulsed. A spray of black viscous blood would launch from the arm, searing away plants nearby and releasing a thick black smoke with arcs of crimson lightning jagging through it. Anything organic to come in contact with this being's blood would find the same end result, though inorganics would be entirely unaffected. It wasn't specifically aimed at Zantara, but it was a damn handy way -pun entirely intended- to set up a clear battlefield and establish dominance.

As the acrid smoke expands more plants wither within it, giving birth to a growing cloud of pestilence. The skeletal hand clenches as pulses of crimson dance under the brim of his hat, his body facing the general direction of his opponent. With a twitch his right arm swings back and then slashes through the air in front of him, launching several bone spikes at his foe. An orb of swirling gray energy was born from the blood flowing in rivers around his skeletal fingers.

Instead of the ruined idol falling to the ground Zantara would be disappointed to find thin streaks of black running down the ruined mass, connecting the defiled bone. Bone of the appearance of obsidian was quickly covering the ruined idol, giving it support using the bone spikes as a base for growth. It was only a matter of whether they were growing from those points, or being directed from above by The Walker. A single hand extended out to greet the flames, a black taint consuming the violet as it drifted through the acrid black smoke filling the air. Instead of doing whatever Zantara expected the skull would reduce in size to be caught in his hand and inspected, wholly tainted with anything granted to it by Zanatara already consumed by the Nightmare Fog. For a moment he studied it and then raised it to his malformed nose, now hidden under the brim of his hat. With a deep inhale he seemed to snort the fireball as if it were any drug of the like, a shudder passing through his body as he finished processing the data gathered from the fireball as it slipped through the smoke.

A surge of power floated through the orb growing in his left hand, flecks of black running through as it was quickly overcome by crimson and azure. The temperature began to skyrocket in the already humid environment, adding to the discomfort. A moment later he seemed to crush the orb in his skeletal hand, reducing it to nothing but ash. This would be cleared up as soon as it reformed in the center of the fog, darting through the darkness to sink into the water upstream of Zantara by a good fifteen feet or so. Instead of fizzling out or exploding in some futile attempt to dam the waters it began to form a black stain. The entire river was quickly turning from delightful dihydrogen monoxide to a deadly sludge only fit to be called this defiled man's blood. More black smoke would boil to the surface, bacteria and fish instantly eaten away by the highly acidic nature of the ooze.

As the tainted waters continued to expand it became apparent that the jade did not entirely counteract the effects of the magic contained in the waters. While it was true that the cleric's attempt had decreased the effect, it could not wholy end the effect, meaning that the waters were probably a bad place to return to. What the beast found amusing was the Magic Circle that had been errected against him, knowing it would do the cleric no good. The bone covering the idol began to rapidly expand across the ground, surges of crimson lightning through the Nightmare Fog heralding its expansion. Within a close proximity to the acrid black smoke the temperature would drop off considerably, and at its very edge spellcasting would become difficult, as if the energy -divine, mana, or whathaveyou- was being drawn away. Though it would be noted that the smoke is merely a visual effect, not even an illusion, simply a visual display of a sort of area of influence.

The beast stared down the blast, throwing his arms wide and releasing a powerful roar that sent animals fleeing for miles. The beam struck him square in the chest, the psionic energy used to fuel it burning away the blackness on his skin while the positive energy seared flesh from his bones. With a sickening crack his right arm digs deep into his chest and subsequently tears free a rib that looked to be built of ruby instead of the blackened obsidian of his other bones. Sliding down he holds the freed rib above him as the last remnants of his blood are scoured away. With another roar he screamed at the man, "Do you really think you can end me?! Do you think you know what I am?!" Images danced on the air, faces twisted in pain as the beam's effects tore into their souls. Dripping blood and gore the flesh on his chest and skeletal right hand began to stitch back together as Zantara leaped in for the attack. The blade sunk into his shoulder, lodging in the bones as the left arm ceased movement. His dead eyes stared up at Zantara as a surge of bone growth locked the cutlass in place, "Would you prefer to be eaten raw, rare, well done, or blackened?" Even as he spoke his leg lifted up to slam a boot into the man and kick him away with enough force to shatter bone.

The moment the blade leaves the creature's shoulder it begins to stitch itself back together, a small scar leaving the only visible trace of damage. He seemed to watch the elbow sweeping in to break his nose, and gave a brief smile. The smell of rotten flesh flooded outward as his head tilted back and up slightly just before impact, his jaw distending to open quite wide. The beast would get a mouthful of elbow and Zantara would get an armful of teeth, his massively powerful jaws locking down around the limb with all intents of simply eating it while still attached to the man. He didn't care that his leg had been captured, all of his limbs suddenly twisting to latch onto the cleric. His clothing lashed out to support their weight, but they would slip down to land on the ruined idol, right in the center and laying down.