Wrathion nods curtly, slamming the doll into the wall again and darting across the room quickly. He checks out into the corridor beyond, glancing back at the creature as it slowly begins to drag itself together from where it had crumpled to the ground. They're hardy, but he doesn't have time to make sure it stays down permanently -- he isn't certain what that would even take. Some of them have re-attached limbs, he knows. What would be a lethal blow for them? To the head, chest?

He pauses long enough to make sure Anduin is keeping up, darts forward and dodges just as another doll lunges out and reaches for him. Anduin, please, it's saying, with Jaina's voice, and Wrathion struggles with it as it grabs him, sends them both awkwardly slamming toward a small table before trying to drive the knife into its head. Close combat is absolutely not his style -- he needs a weapon with more range. A problem for the future.