Another knock came at the door and the small group looked at it in wonder. Who would be knocking at this hour?
Outside, a wraith-like figure sat, waiting for the twins to open the door. He had heard of the piece embedded in I'zack's hand and was eager to get a look- or perhaps more. But there was no answer coming and as his patience ran out he readied himself to enter the room, stiletto in hand.
"Griswaald, you weren't thinking of disturbing two unassuming guests, now were you?" a voice softly lilted. The sudden sound caused the young Nether Dragyn to jump in fear and surprise and drop the slender knife with a muffled clatter. As he turned, a flurry of black and and crimson smoke erupted from the darkest corner of the hallway, furthest from the slowly-rising warming light of day. From its midst one red eye glowed brightly, rivaled only by the glitter of fangs as a silhouetted figure moved towards the now-visibly frightened Dragyn, bringing with it a blast of smoke and fire that blew the door wide open. Griswaald sat exposed to the twins and Tarin for only a second before he felt a familiar hand clap his shoulder, the slight twinge of claws digging in and silently warning him not to say a word.
With a hearty laugh his mentor ran his free hand through his tossled black hair and bowed to the two brothers, who appeared very confused. "My deepest apologies, my lady and gentlemen," he said with a smile, "It appears that my friend here has a mind for early morning pranks. But I assure you, it will not happen again. Isn't that right, Griswaald?" At the last word the Dragyn felt a searing pain encompass his backside as the claws in his shoulder were replaced in his rear with the stiletto that Abyss had managed to collect, unnoticed in the smoke and fog. With a muffled yelp he nodded vigorously and began backing out the door. "Don't forget to see the inn-keeper on the way out," he heard his elder cheerfully chime.
With a grin Abyss turned back to the twins and Tarin, his fangs glinting dimly in what little light filtered into the room. The three seemed tosize him up, and they were slightly taken aback by their visitor's appearance. From his fangs to the black claws in the place of finger-nails, to the strange black tattoos curling their ways round his hands, to his oddly-shaded eyes (one a blazing red, the other as blue as a robin's egg) he was possibly one of the stranger entities they had encountered. And yet, the lack of armor or weapons of any kind gave him a rather harmless appearance. The glint in his eye was not malicious in the least and if anything, he seemed to have a cheerful, unassuming air about him. "Anyway, as I was saying," he continued, "I'm terribly sorry about that, and I'll try and catch him before he gets to your door next time- one of my old subjects, he was."
With that he turned on his booted heel, his long, crimson cloak rustling slightly with each step as he made his way to the door. But as he reached it, he stopped briefly and turned for only a second to say "Oh and a nasty curse that one. You may want to watch that it doesn't get too out of hand. I've seen the effects of that thing. And Ms. Witchy-poo," he chuckled, "Try all you it, it won't heal properly, though some other wounds do... given time."
_________________ "And these children that you spit upon
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultation
They're quite aware of what they're going through"
--- David Bowie
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