text: You summon your mental forces and prepare to unleash a weave of raw magica against Farhan. He apparently has not noticed you yet.
  
  Knowing you have to go for speed rather than for finesse, you just hope that your mental strength suffices for you not to black out. Then, you banish those distracting thoughts from your mind and concentrate at the work on hand.
  
  Within seconds, the weave is completed, and you hurl it with a single word of power against the emissary who dances among the wolves, cutting them down.
  
  Your magical force hits him straight into the chest.
  > You this is not the case.
  But Farhan simply shrugs off your mental assault.
  
  You are shocked by this, and he turns towards you with an evil grin on his face, and cuts his way through the wolves towards you.
  
  Horrified, and knowing your mental reserves are depleted entirely, you brandish your own sword, slowly giving way to Farhan. Unrelentlessly, he comes towards you.
  
  You turn to flee, knowing you cannot face him in hand to hand combat, and make a run for it, but he is faster.
  
  You utter an inhuman scream as the wicked blade he wields bites into your flesh, and you feel your very soul being drawn into the very weapon, feeding both its wielder and its own hunger...