The assassin lifted off of the rock lightly, and drifted a little closer to the creature.

Although he was not very good at it, White-Hair was going to try to send some images into this creature's brain to gauge the reactions.

As their eyes locked, he telepathed the first image, which was his mental picture of what the aphons looked like; snarling, sentient-hungry monsters that inhabited his lord A'marul's latest planetary takeover. He did not know what sort of face it made, but it was not familiarity.

Next was A'marul, the ever-cloaked demigod whose skin had faded burns that formed runic letters of an alien alphabet, two men wide and three tall. More twistings of those facial features, and some other physical gestures, but nothing more. Apparently his greedy arms really couldn't reach this planet.

Finally, a picture of the creature that looked of this one, although there were some distinct differences, such as the lighter skin and larger build, as well as the lack of hair and bulge in the chest.

Still nothing from what he could gather.

White-Hair would have left a very long time ago if he was not having such fun. And although he had taken far heavier damage, the arm he had cut was now showing some signs of effect, such as a slight twitch, as well as a slight droop.

Either way he'd decide to fight a while longer.

The blood was still coming; good, easier to spread.

Slinking to the right, he disappeared from the enemy's line of sight. White-Hair cut a wide circle around it to come from above.

He dropped his talons a little quickly; the prey spun around in time to block them, however. His body was now suspended over the sword.

And it was the perfect chance to carry out his plan. He dodged past the blade, igniting every drop of blood currently caked all over his body. And the material he wore repulsed the heat; a burning wave of it washed over the creature.