"Symon-!" The warning was a fraction too late and Asra hissed a curse as bright red blood splattered the ground, mixing with the black ichor that seemed to seep and drip in thick, heavy splats from the creature. Symon's sword found its mark and, to Asra's mind, it seemed the two figures stood locked together in that final blow for a long moment before Symon's sword came free and the creature slumped to the ground.

At once, Asra moved up beside the other man and cast flames at the body, ensuring that if it wasn't already dead, it soon would be, and turned his attention back to the other man.

"Your throat..." he began, frowning in concern and reaching for Symon's arm. "Let me see how bad it is."