Thane's transformation had altered the very fabric of the battlefield, casting chaos over every corner. His monstrous form, now completely unrecognizable as human, seethed with raw, demonic energy. His once cunning and strategic mind had degraded into something primal, driven by nothing more than rage and a twisted sense of survival. The creature before Lord Varric was not just a man twisted by power, but an embodiment of the madness that came from surrendering oneself entirely to demonic power.
Thane snarled, his new form hunched over, blackened claws scraping against the ground, leaving trails of molten earth. His eyes glowed with a fierce, malevolent light, and his breath came out in ragged hisses. The air around him was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, a vile miasma that seemed to grow with each of his movements. His strikes came fast and without pattern, a flurry of slashes and lunges that mirrored the mindless aggression of a wild beast cornered.
