My Beast cannot speak.
It moans and groans, growls and even howls. But it doesn't speak.
Well, not that I expected it to. My beast is not a creature of intelligence, but it far greatly surpasses its predecessors in that aspect.
Intelligence.
I test it out a few more times, asking it to jump, stand on one leg, carry me and even retrieve the dagger after I threw it.
It passed all tests with flying colours.
The best part being that I don't even have to maintain its state, another one up on its Ghoul and Zombie predecessors.
Anselm marvels at my beast just as I do.
"This is…" he starts, a loss for words.
"My beast."
"Is that what you're calling it?"
I shrug.
"Still," he floats, circling my beast, "A lot of the…meat? Is gone." He observes.
"Are you sure it'll be as strong as a normal Werebear?"