Bloodlust

Garand had dragged himself into a corner as the scene unfolded, and in his current state, he wanted no part of want was inevitably going to transpire. He found his blade and held it tight when the great beast of smoke came forth, but his initial tension ceased when Tiella cast some sort of wind spell upon it. The voice of this supposed "Jormungandr" was deep and booming, the entire room seemed to rumble when it spoke. The tales of Loki's son, the World Serpent must have slipped Garand. He had never heard of such a being. However, the Half-Elf was rather curious about what exactly was going on here, after what Luna had said he began to wonder how much more these people sought to do other than travel North to find some mysterious man. The Elven girl had mentioned they needed to kill "Halla", yet another name he was unfamiliar with. He cursed himself for not reading up on these things at some point, however, he never did really care about the Gods or their ludicrously complicated blood ties.

Apparently, the serpent was related to the one that the others had wanted to kill, and despite appearing quite amused, he obliged to lend his aid. But, he had a trial for them first.

Garand let out a quiet groan as five reptilian beasts emerged from the darkness, Frost Drake's, according to Tiella.

This was the Half-Elf's worst nightmare. The beasts spread out, and as luck would have it, one managed to slip by the others, as he suspected. He expressed his fear with a sigh of annoyance. This could either work in his favor, or kill him, but alas, wasn't that true with most things?

The beast charged, and Garand rolled, feeling the cold air on his back as he narrowly avoided a slash. He spat as a twinge of pain shot through him, Luna's spell was wearing off now. The beast turned toward Garand, spitting and growling in its primal fury, before lunging one more. Out of options, Garand raised his hand towards the beast and imagined hot, burning fire. The Drake flailed in the air, crashing into the cavern wall behind him. On the ground, it rolled and squirmed, as if it had erupted in flames, but it was still as frost covered and cold as ever. In spite of the now growing pain, Garand crawled towards the dazed and confused beast with furious vigor, one he was upon it he stabbed into its belly until it ceased to move. He exhaled, ice cold fluids covering his face, as he relished in the creatures pain.

"...your agony feeds me...", he muttered, as his veins filled with forbidden, eldritch power.

"...and for every life I take, my hunger grows..."

Garand felt unlike himself, he felt as if the strings around his limbs had suddenly tightened, his puppet master now awake and aware of his potential. Garand pressed his hand down on his leg, and his eyes closed as he imagined water rushing along a river bank. His wound had healed some, but it wouldn't be enough. Not that it needed to be. Garand thought of empty space and stumbled up to his feet, his injury far from his mind now. He held his stiletto at his side, lusting to spill blood once more.