Ah, fenhedis, he thinks, as Zevlor's foot pins the blade Well done, Warden, that's you dead.

But the abomination doesn't strike— though come to think of it, it's odd that it'd have a weapon to begin with. Claws not enough for you, little guy? Not that he's small for a person, but abominations were so often those huge, lopsided, hulking things.

"Oh, I'm the demon, am I?" He snarled, and then— stopped, "Wait did you— alright, an Abomination that talks. Huh."

Well, now he's seen everything— but he's thought that thought before, and been wrong every time. Slowly, he stands, hands out to show his lack of a weapon— of a visible one, at least. Alright. Alright, fair enough.

"...Uh. So what are you supposed to be, if you're not possessed?"