The one that he wounded on his attack was put out of its misery by the gnome fellow who had slipped between his own legs to do it. Had he been a barbarian, this would have been the moment he would have raged; the moment when the sweet scent of blood and carnage would wrap about his brain like a warm blanket, before it sparked his desire for more. Blood was like mother’s milk to him, it was what he was nourished in as a child. The red of his tattoos meant to mimic that constant desire and urge to be bathed in the blood of his enemies.<br/><br/>It was moments like these that he felt the closest to his God.<br/><br/>“HEXTOR!”<br/><br/>The name shouted from his lips, added fuel to the flames of his passion for the combat. With barely much ado, he struck down the one that had been wounded by the skinny man, his axe’s keen edge hacked through the body of the barely there spider-like it was truly just another bug to be crushed. However, as before, he wasted little time to enjoy its death for he was already on the move to his next target a healthier look spider. Honed in the two charged at one another, at the last moment before they collided Durzol dropped to his knees and rolled using the momentum of actions to add force to his attack so that as the spider sailed over him he sliced clean up into its underbelly. As the axe exited the body of the spider, he rolled to his feet and charged for the next spider.<br/><br/>It jumped at him; he dodged it and brought his axe down on the back of what he would guess to be its neck, effectively separating its head from the rest of the body. The last spider in his sights, charged and he gave a full turn as he swung backhand at the spider. It too found itself it two pieces now which left the Inn now…empty from where he stood.<br/><br/>“SoH tu' Dab 'emvo' mighty hextor qo' be'vam QaQqu'vaD!” the words spat out, along with some actual spit upon the bodies of the fallen beasts.