Though not aggressive, and in pain, the beast was still alert; every shfiting guard, every shouldered pike drew his attention for a short time, on the way a man on the gallows might hear every creak of the wood under his feet, anticipating each time the plunge of the trap door.<br/><br/>"An artifact. It..." And now its stare settled deeply on the pair of Knights, following the heraldry and the finery of their armor. "It has the power to change the unwary. The..." It struggled to force out the word. "...weak. It need only so much blood as may come from a wound, and then only to touch your skin, and..."<br/><br/>That voice was faltering, now, with both his injuries and something deeper;the kind of stunted, stutered slowing that could only come from a memory forced deep within. It had not moved much since landing, but the blood on its feathers and fur was becoming more apparent; though the comparatively small arrows made wounds that were not lethal, they were still painful enough judging by the slow, hesitant movements the beast began to make, settling itself back into an upright sit oddly reminiscent of a housecat. Muscle worked around the arrow in its side, moving the wooden shaft.<br/><br/>"And you change. If you're desperate, or fearful, or..." It blew an angry snort out its nares. "It does not matter. Do not touch it. I have carried it here, for I am safe; on an individual it..." He hesitates. "It only works once."