Winning Vote:
Option 2 – Slash low.

Staying low to the ground, you swing the dull, wooden dagger in a wide arc. Turning as you attack, twin pillars of red muscle spin into view. Starting as obsidian hooves and extending up past your field of vision, the smallest point of each leg is larger than your thigh. Numerous large blood vessels mottle the legs' surfaces and pulsate rapidly as their owner's heart beats rapidly.

Your blade impacts the right leg just below the knee and easily sinks in. A thick layer of flesh shrinks away from the wound as if retreating from a great heat. Fat deeper into the leg begins to sizzle and smell delicious. Major blood vessels seal off from the heat, preventing all but a small amount of blood from escaping. Seconds later, the blade exits the opposite side of the right leg and repeats the scene on the left

Shoving yourself backwards away from the demon, you watch the top three fourths of it slide backwards with a nauseating *sqwick*. Following the thighs to the ground are the defiled one's smooth and sexless groin, a bifurcated tail serrated along each side, a nipple-less chest, and the face of a beautiful man crowned with curved, ram-like horns. Throughout the top-heavy demon's fall, it keeps both hands open, palms out towards you in an indication of harmlessness. Even after hitting the ground, the show of peace is maintained.

“Haz nahbin ek xvuaar akinus tahwuun,” the demon says to you. The words are completely unknown to you and may in fact be gibberish, but, somehow, they seem to sit heavy in your brain, not leaving from your short-term memory. Instead, you can feel them starting to coalesce into something solid, into something with meaning.

“Akinus tahwuun! Akinus tahwuun! Akinus tahwuun!” The words are shouted now but become fainter with each iteration as the demon runs further out of breath but refuses to breath. “Akinus tahwuun.”

You can feel the meaning of its words standing just outside your realm of perception like a man hidden in shadows. The meaning has just almost become clear when a peal of thunder cracks through the air. A man clad in fine cloth and wearing obnoxiously expensive leather shoes drops from the sky, landing on the demon and crushing its throat in a brutal throat stomp. Still, you can feel the meaning is so close; your eyes roll back into your head in search of it.

The archangel grabs you and shakes. “It's in your head! You must force it out! Believe!”