Swooping down on his prey like a true raptor Xarithe digs his clawed talon deep into the concealed flesh of the female cultist. His second claw missing it's mark, talons tearing through clothe but little else. With one foot firmly in place however his leverage allows his beak to strike true. Quite pleased with the success of his attack, he was not surprised in the least when the sword wielding male rushes to the woman's aid. Slashing at his wing, yet only delivering minimal damage as much of the blade carves it's way through feathers and little else. Xarithe's talons holding firm upon the woman's shoulder, as she turns her head to hiss and address him. Allowing him to see her face clearly, the druid takes a moment to admire her perverse and unnatural beauty. His avian eyes stare unblinking as her own pupiless eyes seem to gaze straight into his very soul. They being possessed of an unearthly glow, the likes he has never seen.<br/><br/>The woman's words rest uneasily upon his mind as he ponders (Teach her nothing?...what could she mean by that, what could she be hoping to learn.....furthermore how does she know I am a druid?) Before he can muster a true responce, Xarithe is thrown off balance by a sudden upwards jolt, nearly tossing him into the air as he is forced to take flight to prevent from falling. The woman's face suddenly looms before him, much bigger then he recalled her being mere moments ago. Her lips part before him, inviting his curiosity to look inside. An offer his eyes are oh to willing to accept. Gazing onward Xarithe can feel the hot humid breathe of the giant woman washing over his feathered form, the sour scent that accompanies it forcing it's way to linger over his beak.   It is dark within, impossibly so, and as the eagle's eyes narrow, peering into the darkness, searching for the reds and pinks his mind was accustomed to, he would see it, see the reflection of moisture glimmering back at him. Just as he begins to piece the puzzle together (It.....it's black....) no sooner had this though crossed his mind....would she attack. His curious fascination with this woman was sure to be the death of him, for as he strains his neck to see into the depths of that open maw, he would barely have time to prepare for the twin scythes that rain down upon him. The first he narrowly avoids, twisting away as it whistles past his avian body. Though by doing so he inadvertently  places himself in the path of the second swipe.The sharp barbs bite deep into the flesh of his wing, catching and snaring the delicate appendage. His feathers bristle as the sharp pain spreads throughout his body, staggering the eagle as Xarithe can do little to resist being pulled tight against the woman's chest.<br/><br/>Ordinarily he would have loved nothing more then to find himself against the body of such a woman, upon looking up all he can see is the crimson of her lips parting ever wider, as he is drawn closer to that dark and ominous maw. Her wicked sharp teeth creating a jagged frame from which a sinuous tongue presents itself. Lolling out as a sick mockery of a red carpet, eagerly inviting the arrival of his tiny body. Xarithe screeches in pain, fighting and flapping futilely against the clawed appendage, desperate to escape. Those majestic wings which had carried him so effortlessly through the forest, would serve to do little more then batter harmlessly against the bosom of the enlarged female cultist. (She....she intends to eat me?!....) This thought frightening him for at his size it would not take much effort for her to swallow him down. What's more he was vulnerable, cut off from his allies, unable to call out to his companion Sira for aid.....completely overpowered and at the mercy of the mantis-clawed woman. Where she to swallow him now, there would nothing preventing her from simply fleeing the battle. Where she a druid as she seemed, it would be likely she could traverse the forests much in the same manner as Xarithe, unhindered.....leaving little hope of his allies ever catching her. Sira could track his scent, this much she had proven in the past......though in this instance, he fears she would be to late.....that by the time she tracked him down, the only trace of his scent would lead her to discover little more then a fresh pile of fertilizer,left steaming on the forest floor. His options where made clear in this moment, for as much as he would like to stay in eagle form, would like to kick off from the woman and take to the sky, he knew that should he fail in his attempt,  his window to contact sira would vanish, and his fate would be sealed. (I have to change back....not only will I be bigger, but I can call for sira....after that....I will do what I can to stall...)<br/><br/>His mind made up Xarithe would cease his squirming, taking several deep breathes into his avian lungs, forcing himself to relax. Upon concentrating  his body begins to enlarge. Feathers melting away into flesh, his clothing and gear re-emerging at last, returning him to his original form.The woman able to see him now as he truly was, able to feel his soft skin trapped beneath her claws, see his handsome face, and hazel eyes blinking up at her, and smell the herb infused aroma of his tender flesh. The moment his transformation is complete he calls out in draconic, hissing a command to his serpent ally, for druidic and draconic where the languages he has accustomed his companion to most respond to, fearing the woman may know druidic he choses the later.<br/><br/>(No fear Xarithe...remember, the more you squirm, the tighter the coils crush in around you.....) he lectures himself, just as a sudden crash in the nearby forest draws his attention. Xarithe's head swivels, seeing the imposing image of none other then a giant mantis. (That's.....unexpected.)  moment later he faces the woman once more, forcing a smile as he speaks. "Forgive me for the squawking earlier....I fear we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.....the name's Xarithe Blackscale, pleasure to make your acquaintance...." His head darting in the direction of the preying mantis as he works quickly to make conversation "The giant mantis, messengers of death sent to the world by angry gods.....truly fascinating beings. It is said that they can smell fear, that the souls of those it slays and devours are digested along with the body, keeping them from moving on to the afterlife." Xarithe would spout off, reciting what myths he knows about the creature in question. Wanting to keep her attention for as long as possible, to catch her off guard, prevent his consumption, but most of all give Sira time to silently make her approach. Despite his sudden change in demeanor, his eyes are constantly drawn to that gaping maw, able to see inside much clearer now with his outsider vision. A mix of curiosity, and fear ever clashing in his psyche. (I hope sira does not arrive too late....)<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>[[ Xarithe is changing back from eagle form as a standard action. Instructing Sira to come to his aid as a free action, and prattling to the anti-druid for the rest of his turn about their shared interest in mantids:3 ]]<br/>[[I will note that Xarithe will also use stone shield as an immediate action should the male cultist continue attacking him.]]<br/><br/>[[Sira is using a double move to place herself next to the male cultist. ]]