A swing of his still attached arm lost him his hold on the prey - his sword flailing off wildly - however the move helped to partially free the hold that had been locking him from advancing. His head swung off with the displaced arm, his bite pulling him along until he finally had the instinct to open his mouth.

That wasn't the direction he needed. There was nothing to bite.

Dust billowed from the lip-less mouth as the zombie righted his head and again tried to bite ahead. This time he met another hindrance as something lodged into his chest. He felt nothing but the force of the pipe going into him and how it slowed him once more, but he didn't stop. As much as he was unable to go through himself, he was less restricted when it came to other things going through him.

The pipe crashed through skin, shattering britle ribs and continuing through with the zombie biting furiously forward. He was close, and he was going to get what he wanted, whether through a bite or a cut didn't matter. The once flailing sword arm returned to the struggle, the blade striking out for the human in a mirroring move to the pipe's own.