Now We Have A Real Problem

The moment his final wound knit itself shut, Ulfar's eyes burst open like trapdoors in the night. Surprised and disoriented, he reached instinctively for his groin, releasing a sigh filled with the authenticity of relief as he discovered that his manhood hadn't gone the way of his old skin.

Jake, witnessing this absurdity, rolled his eyes, then greeted him, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Ulfar. How are you feeling?"

The Beskyrian's face creased in contemplation, his expression heavy. "Honestly... I feel strangely good. That's the problem." He responded after a moment's hesitation.

"Explain," Jake pressed.

"Fearless. Confident. At peace," Ulfar supplied.

Jake didn't like the sound of this. "And...?" he prodded, bracing himself for the worst.

Ulfar deliberated for another second, stroking his chin thoughtfully before admitting, "Hungry. Or angry. Maybe both."