Dim does what Dim does best: fighting and eating

Dim was not a clever man. Attacking a god-slaying wolf in the first place was testament to that fact, as if further compounding evidence was really necessary. But the reason he survived in a world as harsh as this one with such a lack of wits was simple. Dim was strong, fast, and his fighting instinct and sheer ferocity were something to behold when he unleashed it.

Nevertheless, the sudden attack and the unexpected shapeshifting nearly got the jump on him. He rolled aside in the nick of time, actually feeling the wind of the axe blow graze his ankle. As he bounced back onto his feet, a fierce fire burned in his eyes and he grinned wide, as he knew that Fenrir slamming his axe into the floor meant he'd need a moment to recover i-

He dropped to a squat with a grunt as the axe whistled over his head. A split second later and he'd have been the size of a regular dwarf! Wolf man was fast! But Dim was short and axes this size could only be swung wide. Dim's instincts never led him wrong. Before Fenrir's weapon could come whistling back, Dim launched himself at the human shaped beast, a flurry of limbs and wild axe swings. Fenrir was forced to use the axe as a shield, blocking Dim in mid-air. But as he bounced off the raised axe, Dim saw an opening, and he bit down hard on one of his enemy's hands. A wet crunch sounded and Fenrir grunted. Dim landed, rolled back, got back to his feet and grinned a bloody smile. A single thumb phalange was held between his teeth.

"Turned man," Dim said unclearly over the little ball of flesh of bone. He swallowed it and added: "Still taste like wolf."