As his code dictated, Subötaï couldn't draw a blade for no reason. At first, he just pushed his blade out of its sheath with his thumb, waiting to adjudicate if the threat was real or not. But it became clear pretty fast. Subötaï drew his sword and in one fluid motion sliced the menacing arm.
"It appears that this foul thing cannot be harmed by the usual means," Dubi Gan pointed out, "Perhaps we could try something like what we attempted with the Construct, and knock it down and then tie it up? Or should we flee?"
The Templar of the Bull of Battle stepped forth. Frog Froth had forged the blades themselves, there was no magical investment there, no blessing. But they were wielded with unshakable faith. The preta couldn't avoid them.
The Bull of Battle witnessed. And, something very rare occurred. He intervened. There was a brilliant flash, a concussive blast, everyone thrown on their back. Froth Froth came to first. Their two Kukris had turned a brilliant white, like the blades were of a polished silver reflecting white clouds in the sky. The wooden handles were now of bleached ivory. Their hands stung, and were now completely black...
The Preta was on the ground, head cleanly hacked off. Its form was blurring, dissolving...
(OOC: Critical hit by a templar vs an undead? That could have some special effect... )
With a morbid curiosity, Miu steps forward towards the headless creature, wishing to inspect it. "There are signs of this creature being human... But what was responsible for this ungodly transformation?"
Miu stands above the headless body, wondering what could have done such a thing. He fears that it's a warning. He meditates on the thought, desperate to find an answer, but he's overwhelmed with an unknown spiritual energy. Alas he cannot decipher its meaning.