A loose arrow aimed true and the target unawares, marked, for the hunter becoming the prey. Strikes the shadow wreathed in the now clearly hybrid floating landscape clearly of and not quite not of the material plane.

The shadow in a voice almost elvish, but not, cries out much different from the hateful melody ringing in Clint's ears, chimes like a bell in the dark. Clint abruptly, stops turns and sees an arrow sticking in mid air dripping with blood. His gaze more dire, more vengeful, and a murderous red-haze glooms the dread visage.

A step turns into a meandering walk. A walk becomes methodical stride, and a stride becomes a full blown unstoppable charge menacing towards the shadow.

Stolen story; please report.

The shadow turns to flee, dripping a trail behind it and the veil begins to chip away like glass. Revealing a short pointy eared humanoid.

The small elf-like creature is terrified facing what he thought was a human and not a demon of the planes of hell. It was going all so wrong. He was not prepared to die and turned to flee. Though like most birds of prey owls or Owlins in this case were accomplished hunters. One with wide predatory yellow eyes swoops down in front of him startling him into tripping and falling and then crab walking sideways into the dead end of a strange floating mass of ground and fallen trunk.

And Clint never stopped raising his blade before he was over top of this minuscule creature of illusion. Clint was about to cleave the threat in two or more until…