Update in 30.
Without hesitation they leapt at him, swiftness nearly the equal of his own. The man hunched forward like a dog taught to kill, his limbs colossal, barrel-like arms near twice the width of Hunger's own. He was a broad bear of a man, though he stood only half a head taller, nowhere near the old marshal's stature who had confronted him at the boundary of the Inner Temple. The woman tacked to the side, sword held defensively, examining Hunger's figure with a critical eye. Buoyed by the imminent prospect of its kin's rescue, his Ring flared crimson, and he felt their blood falter and tremble before him. Let it be enough.
He feinted at the man, committing hard to an attack on the breastbone, then switching last-minute to half-sword, adjusting the angle of his strike down towards the man's groin. His opponent reacted with admirable speed, stepping sideways to avoid the strike, but Hunger merely let go of his Blade and punched him in the face. The Power of Ruin infused in his strike left a crater of splintering skin and bone, but Hunger's own fist was repelled, every bone shattered by the terrible sharp tenacity of his opponent's flesh. It was like punching a cliff crag of pure adamant; and though his foe seemed equally surprised that the Ringbearer had hurt him, Hunger fell back, jaw gritted in frustration.
He knew his time was limited. It would not take long for the other Immortals to recover their powers as the Groundskeeper had. He had to finish these two great threats and steal their strength before then.