It keeps it's word.

The dark shadow above descended slowly, before falling suddenly in front of him in a massive amorphous greyish brownish blob.

The blob then began to rise, splitting off into innumerable strands of slimy, gelatinous tentacles. Individually, they were as thin as a finger, but when they moved together as wriggling serpent-like limbs, they were as thick as his arm, with bright blue and green rings dotted across its surface. Its grasping, twisting undulations revealed rows of alternating round divots along the underside of the tentacles, with hook like barbs within them that could just as easily rip flesh as hold tight.

Within the mass of tentacles and supported by them from the top of its head, not unlike human hair, was a roughly human female shaped creature, with skin so ghostly pale that he could see the network of veins of its blue lifeblood and organs within. Slender legs and arms dangled freely above the ground. Sharp rakish claws protruded from its fingertips. A waspish waist was between strangely wide hips and chest. Oddly, it had breasts like a woman, only missing their nipples, but beneath them, its two hearts beat rhythmically. At Wiglaf's best estimation, the body itself was a head taller and about as wide as an average man, but standing at its full height on its tentacles, the dead creature's mate towered over him.

Wiglaf found himself sliding backwards slowly, his hand reaching for his sword, when the creature's mate started to walk over towards him delicately on her tentacle legs, the main body unearthly still as it moved. Stopping a handful of paces away from him, it descended slightly, and for the first time, he could see her face clearly.

It was impossibly beautiful. A small, cute nose. Sharp cheekbones and chin. Smooth glistening skin. But also, terrifying. Large round eyes of inky blackness that told nothing of the intelligence or intentions behind them. Despite not having eyebrows, he could deduce that her expression was one of annoyance. She cocked her head at him sideways, the tentacles on her head pushing and contracting to allow such a simple movement. "You accuse me of deception, warrior," she remarked with a rasp in her voice, her thin lips pulling back in a snarl, revealing a set of wicked jagged yellow fangs and teeth. The smell of salt, damp seaweed, fish, and blood heavy in her breath. "Come away from your blade, so that I may see my beloved's killer up close."

The chill of fear down his spine was tempered by the insult to his honor. Curling his outstretched hand into a fist, he took a couple of steps forwards and glared upwards at the creature's mate. "My name is Wiglaf Gunnarrson. That is what you may call me," he growled from behind furrowed brows. "What do I call you?"

The creature's mate's expression softened, and her head cocked the other way. She was silent, looking down at him with her alien eyes. Her hands came forwards, reaching towards his face, her black obsidian-like claws piercing through the air silently. Wiglaf fixed his face in a stern expression and willed his tongue still, denying the creature the satisfaction of his death screams, when with surprising gentleness, he felt her fingers brush aside his hair that had stuck to his face.

She studied his face in great detail. His tired green eyes. Mostly dark blonde hair, wild and unkempt, that ended about his neck, that stuck to his face. His broken nose that had been reset too late and had a slight bend to it. His beard and mustache were tied in a braid that ended just under his chin, and his usually shaven, sunken in cheeks had many days of itchy patchy growth on them.

Taking a step back, she began to walk around him, examining him like an animal at market. Her many tentacled steps were almost eerily silent as she seemed to glide around on them. Wiglaf was about a hand's width shorter than her. Countless sleepless nights sapped his strength to even eat, leaving him thin and scrawny. His exhausted slouch made his clothes and armor hang badly off his body, making it look like he could barely hold himself upright. A single gold ring dangled from a line across his neck, and the creature's mate sneered openly when she saw it.

Tired, angry, and at the end of his patience, Wiglaf snapped at her. "You wished to talk, creature," he said. "Speak then, of why you have brought me here, and let us be done with it."