Hünfrid Märr watched the Eladrin soldier in front of him slide slowly off the twin blades and crumple to the earth, his dark blood pooling, mixing with the crimson gore dripping from Mira's gaping wound. "Outclassed?" Hunfrid asked softly, staring in shock at Mira's ravaged body. "Then it's the great storm for us Ranger. Save a drink for me on the other side," he added. Hunfrid's eyes slipped into the blackness beneath the oversized cowl of his traveling cloak as he pulled it up over his head and turned to face the Eladrin at I13. His left hand quickly slipped the driftwood staff into a set of leather bands attached to his upper right leg. His right hand raised beneath his cloak to his chest, the fingers working rhythmically, tracing rune after rune on the worn leather armor. His left hand joined the right, moving with practiced speed, a wrenching spasm racking his body the only way to judge where one sign ended and the next began. A thin layer of frost and ice formed on each sleeve, breaking away in chunks as the fabric moved violently with each shudder. The pattern continued, working its way up his body until it reached the weathered exposed skin of his throat. His face contorted in pain as his mouth opened unnaturally, letting out the beginning of a long tortured scream. The yellowed teeth moved further and further apart, the jaw popping as it separated from the skull. The flesh of his lips drained in color to a pale blue and stretched until they were only a thin outline surrounding a gaping hole more than six inches across, barely hidden beneath the fabric of his hood. Hunfrid's head thrust forward, his scream changing in pitch, as his hands completed the last of the runes and the blast of freezing energy burst from his gaping mouth and unfortunately for the group of bloodied Grey Guards rocketed strait up slamming into an innocent goose flying overhead, freezing it instantly and sending it plummeting to the earth with an emphatic thud.