Flesh flowed like melted wax to twist and crawl becoming some mockery of carapace. Hands ripped and tore at clothing and skin as the wove their way into razor edged claws snapping in the air. Nose and mouth fused and flowed out forming a sharp beak like face only to highlight a pair of bright yellow eyes. Oliver Blut had managed to mutate himself with his experiments, the result of his own dabbling in research he barely comprehended. And now, here he stood, a travesty before nature and order, turning to face the heroic hunter in his midst.
At once he charged, his claws snapping for any purchase of exposed flesh they could reach. Erael's blade darted and spun a flurry of blocks and deflecting strikes. His left hand all the while deploying his flash barrier, directing it to keep away what his blade could not. For long moments they danced, circling the lab fighting for ground. Erael bidding his time, kept his defenses strong and patiently withdrew as his opponent surged forward.
The mutated menace that had been Blut pressed the attack. Launching over a counter he lunged with his beak while adding both claws to the frenzied melee. His right tore at flesh, rending skin but meeting stern resistance. Beneath bloody skin a composite alloy of thin plates repelled the strike from penetrating Erael. With a chuckle, Erael Rynn rolled aside and taunted his quarry. "Nature has a way of producing what is needed far better than any meddling a meager researcher might attempt."
Irritated by the grinning and defiant Tracer, Blut moved to redouble his attack. Determined he would shred this arrogant individual that constantly refused to see a superior form when it stood in front of him. Perhaps he would experiment on his mutilated corpse if enough remained after he was through.
Preparing for the renewed assault, Erael deactivated his flash barrier and drew his Riot Staff, extending only one end. Standing firm he held his brightly pulsating blade in one hand and in the other the Riot Staff crackled and hummed, ready to face the mutated monster. Once more he began his defense, his blade a whirlwind. His staff lashing out to strike exposed areas between attacks, each time it's crack reinforced by a loud zap.
Each time the staff discharged the growing pain of it irritated Blut. Every sting of shock tore at his nerves and pushed him further and further into instinctive frenzy. He would crush this annoying little pest. His new claws demanded more flesh and his beak yearned to feast on gore. Delight filled him as Erael began backing out the door, a look of desperation starting to form on his face.
Erael Rynn had begun to turn defense into retreat. And Blut reveled in the thrill of having turned hunter into hunted.