Herbalists' Cache cen

he erupts.
the bloodhunter comes like a storm and dark fang meets him head-on, snarling, laughing—grinning like a beast loosed from hell. not one step is taken back. not one breath is spared. he will fight, fight like he has not fought before!
he will find thrill, the greatest of thrills. this man is no bloodhunter, and he is an excuse for even a man. he is weak, weak! he did not stand to fight, instead siding with the traitors! he is not saatsine! and for that, dark fang would shred and thresh his flesh.
his voice cracks open in a bark. i kill you, bloodhunter! dark fang promises. weak man! he bellows. and as teeth burrow into his shoulder, there seems to be no pain felt; at least, no show of it. instead, he only grins and cackles maniacally, turning on ksura with a fervor.
dark fang twists. teeth meeting flesh. he sinks low, head ducked, and drives forward with all the bulk and madness of a bull, jaws snapping for the underside of ksura’s jaw—aiming to crush the soft flesh there, to rip the voice from his throat.