Thy frail limbs quiver in frightful agony as you feel the lights dim, harkoning the thundering coming of Grignr. You cling to the faint emision radiating weakly from your candlestick, huddling close together for warmth against the merciless onslaught of the elements. Grignr walks unpertubed through slosh and rain, braving any danger to close the distance and make contact with his chosen enemy. Nothing is more joyous to the raptorous warrior than to feel the clang of steel against flesh, rendering, sundering, slashing squalid flesh and breaking brittle bones as the primitive animal bloodlust overtakes him. Black clouds signal his arrival on the fray, hide you may, but escape you cannot.