The man turned around, looking down at the Aardwolf, a rather sick, twisted grin upon his face. It will be [i]his hunt.[/i] "No. You are the foul beast that must be hunted. I saw those tendrils, the Arcane clearly flows from you." He pointed the rifle right down to its head, finger on the trigger. This was a grand facsimile created by Ghiaccio, just for an excuse to kill things and hide his identity.