A story about Grimalkin

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "We will tell story of grimalkin's trapped within Haze. Sits."

You have emoted: Takhre sits upon the ground, listening intently.

Iazin settles to the ground in a cross-legged position, inhaling deeply. As he brings his hands up to rest open-palmed at either side, he exhales, all tension leaving his body.

---> Look Manteekan

Nearly transparent flesh is pulled taut over a tall, lanky and ectomorphic frame. Hanging in the air like a veil of fine mist, the presence of this immortal seems nothing more than a chill upon the skin. A ghastly aura hangs around His figure, manifesting in a cool fog that gathers at His feet, the miasma roiling like an impending storm. The collected mist beneath Him carries him aloft, His slender and nearly skeletal feet never touching the ground. What can be seen of His facial features must have once been fair; handsome if not for His otherwise spectral existence. His unnaturally long, needle-like fingers constantly fidget, as though grasping at something unseen. His intense, icy blue stare is the most corporeal thing about Him, as though His eyes are more real than He is, swirling with internal vortices of ice and snow.
Ghastly alabaster locks billow behind His head, each thread glowing white as it whips frantically through the air behind Him. Icy mist trails behind each strand as it thrashes about, slowly drifting to the ground to settle in a cloud of haze that churns about His feet.
He is wearing:
a torturous noose of thorn and vine
billowing robes of a chilled mist

---> look Asphodel

They are a graceful elfen wyrden demigod, and a dark variety of their racial kindred. Skin an echo of the sky at dusk paints purples melded seamlessly with dusky blues and kisses of Night's shadowy beauty. Accented with crusted serrations like red-black freckles of a blood moon night, the joints of the arms, edges of the jaw and the wicked span of taloned fingers are overrun in this natural armour. Above, a myriad of luminous eyes stare forward in all directions, casting faintest lilac light upon the high bones of the cheeks. A sweeping flame of violet hair swoops upwards to defy gravity, cascading over their head and framed by two long and pointed ears. A small, luminescent, death's crown mushroom has taken root on their shoulder where it glows with a pale white light. Tattooed on their hands is an illustration of arachnidian oculi.
A soft luminescence surrounds the two verdant antennae that emerge from their forehead, pulsing softly to a rhythm unheard. Thick at their bases, which are surrounded by tufts of ebony hair, the glowing antennae taper to needle-thin points.
They are wearing:
an amber cuff of swift reaping clamped at the base of one antenna;
a blackened wreath of twisted ravenwood trapped by their antennae;
a dark cloak bearing wyrden mazes shrouding their face in blessed shadows with a lifted hood;
noose-like beads of cracked and ruined alabaster strung around the neck in a tight grip;
a blood-tinged icy stole bleeding frost across the shoulders and down one arm;
a mechanical exoskeleton draped in tenebrous hues blending into their natural chitin;
haze-filled prayerbeads of the Lord Nightmare wound between long, spidery fingers;
an arachnidian bracelet of discarded shears gleaming dully on the wrist.

---> look me

They are a feathered trill, standing at a proud 5'5, their silvering feathers gleaming with a sleek iridescence. Pomegranate eyes peer out beneath a fringe of smaller, softer feathers, framed by their round, youthful face. Their lips are thin and white, pale with frost that creeps across their mouth. Slender shoulders are weighed down by their large wingspan, the appendages tucked neatly at their back when not in use. Each wing begins ebony black in color at the connecting joint, slowly fading to a ghostly grey at the tips of their longest flight feathers. Their hands are tipped with long, sharp talons, dutifully honed to a deadly edge. Their chest is bare, covered in a soft coat of shiny feathers that smooth into a rounded form. Wiry and thin, they hold a subtle, constant tension in their limbs that implies great speed at a moment's notice.
Wait timer expired.
They are wearing:
an amaranthine night lotus tucked behind an ear tuft
a blood-tinged icy stole hanging scandalously below their shoulders
haze-filled prayerbeads of the Lord Nightmare hung loosely around their neck
a pair of black trousers bearing silver stars
noose-like beads of cracked and ruined alabaster
a cloak of crow feathers
the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree

---> look Iazin

Lean and tall, the figure of Iazin evokes shadows cast on a winter night. His dark grey hair, reminiscent of storm clouds, gradates to frosty white toward the ends. Pulled back, half up, into a loose ponytail to keep it from his face, the rest falls messily around his shoulders. He is an ordinary human icy demigod, pale of skin. Scars trace his skin like silver script- from fine, sweeping calligraphy, to sharp, bold marks, telling stories of misadventure and lessons learned in blood. Cold, icy blue eyes, the brightest spot of colour upon his features, pass over his surroundings in constant curiosity, periodically locking on points of interest, a bright gleam flashing in glacial reflection as they pass over you. The sharp chill of his eyes, however, often softens when he begins to speak. At his collar is a flash of a glassy imprint, jagged lines of crystalline lightning racing down his flesh, glinting brightly as it wreathes his wrists. Long, slender fingers gingerly reach to dreamily touch aspects of his environment, seeking stimuli in such a way that seems as though to reassure himself that either they, or himself, are real. A full beard, the same gradient of grey and frosted white as his hair, has been given an attempt at being kept tidy, to questionable success.
He is wearing:
a vampire squid pin stuck into the left lapel of his coat, over his heart when his movement stills
a sapphire heart pendant, hung from his neck and kept close to his skin
a long black leather coat lined with crimson silk worn open to show a chest criss-crossed in silvery scars
a stole of knotted mist wafting hazily in the air as it lifts gently away from his form
an ebony dual-finger signet ring, etched runes pulsing a hungry crimson
a simple belt of black leather, buckled loosely on
a pair of shadowed pants worn low on his waist, dipping asymmetrically lower on the right side
a pair of shadowy boots, shadows rising gently from his steps

---> Look Malphas

He is a nimble shadowcaster faeling. Of a height slightly greater than a large corvid, his appearance is one akin to a diminished Trill in its build and features. Clad in Night-dark flesh, willowy arms house sharpened nails whilst the feet terminate in clawed toes similar to a crow's. Wings of a span marginally greater than his height dominate the back, blackened feathers maintained with great care. Decoration breaks the uniform tenebrae of his form by way of bone-white powder in bands about the forearm upon which baleful hexes are etched within. Housed within a severely-angled face are eyes without iris, uniformly molten-gold and unable to betray emotion. Pale lips create a degree of contrast behind which dagger-like fangs can seldom be glimpsed. Atop the head, medium-length locks have been drawn into a ponytail of dual tones in powdered white and black.
He is wearing:
a pair of fate-touched trousers
a simple gold ring
a simple gold ring
a refined monochrome satchel
a dark cloak bearing wyrden mazes
a darkly suave formal jacket coat of smooth leather

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Wyrd-Father. Honored in presence."

---> Look Ferelith

She is a fiendish viscanti demigoddess covered with black feathers whose body is a dark shade of azure, framed on both sides by a pair of bat-like wings of the same color whose edges tinge to deep indigo. Monochromatic silver hair flows unhindered down past her pointed ears, stopping just shy of her slender shoulders. A single horn juts skyward from the hairline above her right eye, beginning as a jagged base and rising to a sharp, broken point well above her crown. Her eyes are a sickly yellow, with irises the color of wilting leaves, and pupils excessively constricted to tiny black points -- it gives her eyes a bulbous quality, as though they are barely contained within their sockets. Her mouth spans nearly ear-to-ear as it struggles to contain rows of filed teeth behind her full lips, leaving her locked in a near-perpetual grin. Her overall proportions are elongated, giving the impression of a regal height, and while a little slender, she is shapely and well-toned. A lithe tail snaps to and fro, its arrow-shaped barbed end teasing the ground with each languid sweep. The careful observer also might notice darkening around her joints where patches of rough scale hint at natural toughness. Tattooed on her face is an illustration of black eyeliner about the eyes.
Her silvery hair is cut into an attractively short pixie cut, long bangs swept to one side. Each strand gleams with a faint emerald hue, granting a mysterious, verdant cast to her overall hairstyle.
She is wearing:
The Godly Belt of Remarkable Aspects
a frisky white bunny cameo brooch
mechanical lace gloves
an etched coral ring
a tattered scarf with oily residue
an antique purse of silver-beaded silk
a rose-wrapped dagger brooch of the D'Cente
a sapphire heart pendant
an exquisite black suit embellished in sanguine and gearwork
an etched amethyst ring
a pair of black high heels
a floor-length purple damask coat lined with rabbit fur
an augmented shell of power
an etched ruby ring
a Pendant of the Divine Spark
a hood of writhing tendrils
a Circlet of Lucidity
a Legionnaire's signet ring
a ruby flower ring
an iridescent white ring of twining feathers
an iridescent white ring of twining feathers
a star-etched pearl ring
a luminous golden amaranth cuff bracelet
a simple gold ring
an iridescent white ring of twining feathers
a plaited sea captain's shoulder knot
a fiery ruby ring

---> look Tigro

A small, dark, furry male stands before you. He is a regal aslaran. His lithe, taut muscles are evident in his 5'6" frame, even beneath his brown fur highlighted by yellow stripes. A majestic golden brown mane adorns his head, and slitted, bright green eyes peer out at the world, taking all in and missing little. Though the claws on his hands and unshod feet are cut back to mere nubs, a dangerous air of the menace still emanates from this creature. His movements speak of quiet, powerful strength and effortless agility, as would those of one who has engaged in unending physical training from a young age.
He is wearing:
form fitting black leather pants
an opalescent white knight's coat
an edelweiss-etched moonstone ring
a gem-encased pocket watch
an iridescent white ring of twining feathers
an etched amethyst ring
a jade eye mask with golden feathers
a star-etched pearl ring
a silver and pearl chevron belt
a hooded stygian cloak
Ghostly voices echo softly, combining into a haunting melody.

With a flourish of her arm, Ferelith bows deeply.

---> look Xenthos

He is a nimble shadowlord faeling shadowfire-limned ascendant changeling and is much larger than normal, a bit over eight feet in height. His skin is a translucent ebony, pine-green shadows seeming to churn just below the surface. Fine white scars form an intricate lacework, lining his skin in a stark contrast.  Glimmering with silver highlights, his hair is a rich, pure white, hanging thick and straight down to his shoulders.  His right eye glows with red fire, containing tiny flecks of green seeming to dance in the flames, while his left is a scarred socket of tissue from which the original eye was plucked.  In its place, an orb composed entirely of shadowfire has formed, constantly swirling within its confines.  Both eyes roam the area, observing everything around him.  His body is lean and lithe, long cables of muscle lying against his bones making him much stronger than first impression would think.  He moves gracefully, making little to no noise when he chooses to walk, instinctively knowing where to place his feet for silence. Springing from his back are a pair of leathery wings, arching high and carried in a subconscious display of self-assurance, faint green tinges showing when struck by the light.  Coiling around each wing, the imprint of a heavy chain has been branded into his flesh.  The blackened links have worn to smooth, iridescent scars along which small wisps of shadowfire cavort.
His silvery hair is cut into an attractively short pixie cut, long bangs swept to one side. Each strand gleams with a faint emerald hue, granting a mysterious, verdant cast to his overall hairstyle.
He is wearing:
a suit of midnight flight field plate
an ebon necklace bound with a shadowfire gem
a midnight flight greathelm
a heavy damask stole of ebon threads
a bone talisman buried in the centre of his chest
an elegant arachnidine half-mask of silver webs
a circlet of crystal thorns
a featherweight charm
the Medallion of Nature
a Brooch of Crow Feathers
a Skeletal Crown of Nature's Way
an amber cuff of swift reaping
a twisting armband of wyrden beauty
Tribal Prayer Beads of the Predator
a sinuate band of lustrous shadowfire
a Forsaken's veil
a Brooch of the Night
a delicate silver spider web brooch
Sandals of the Wanderer
a mechanised shell of commanding power
an eyepatch of the aethers is positioned over his empty eyesocket, though the churning shadowfire beneath is still visible through it
the Tear of Shallah
a symbol of the Predator
a bone-wrought mark of the Predator
a circlet of black thorns
an iced medal of the Guardians
a Pendant of Apex Evolution
a shroud of ivy and thorns
the Medallion of Life
a black crown of crow
a bloodied standard of the An'Ryshe bloodline
a shadow-limned wreath of stygian feathers
Obsidian Wings of the Roaring Spider
a three-finger ring bearing an amethyst scythe
an amaranthine night lotus
a labyrinthine pendant of encircled roots
the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "We lack details, such as name of place trapped and trappers, but we know of the story. Grimalkin were stolen by oppressors, wanted for their ability to empower others. Kept trapped until freed. Many died during return, trapped in Haze by nature of Haze, by power of Father. They suffer half-life, unable to pass into skeins to return to us."
Asphodel pulls an antenna down, rubbing over it with their fingers in a soothing gesture; it springs back up exuberantly at the conclusion.

A shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes paces in a circle around Iazin , gradually settling next to him.

Tigro's eyes bug out as he boggles in amazement.

Manteekan purses His lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as He carefully gathers His thoughts.

Tigro kneels before Manteekan, swearing his allegiance to Him.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Manteekan, "K'iane."

Pensively, you say, "I scoured the old news posts a decade or so ago. Were they not related to the Ice Plains?"

Tigro nods once, quietly.
Tigro sits himself down.
Tigro stands up and stretches his arms out wide.
Tigro stretches languidly.

(The Shadow Kindred): Wrynn says, "Meanwhile, Tigro suffering the ssc curce of being unable to sit."
(The Shadow Kindred): Tigro says, "Bruh."
(The Shadow Kindred): Tigro says, "Curse be strong."
(The Shadow Kindred): Asphodel says, "Just lotus like a true sitter."

Staring at you with their compound eyes, Asphodel's mandibles twitch to voice a brief, curious chirr.

Ferelith purses her lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as she carefully gathers her thoughts.

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "As I understand, they were kept imprisoned with those who would be immune to their influence. It was through the efforts of Father and Algernon that freed them."

Tigro tilts his head and listens intently.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "These are good additions to story, yes yes."
Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks, "Attempt to harness power of grimalkins?"

Casting His glance around, as though searching for the source of His disdain, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "That is true. Much like Algernon himself, this existence may be all that I can give to them."

Tigro idly twitches his tail.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks Manteekan, "How does existence differ from existence now?"

You have emoted: Takhre sighs softly. "Are they to wander Your Realm, then? Is there anything we can do for them to relieve the pains inflicted on them?"

You tilt your head curiously at Asphodel.

Iazin reaches to a shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes again, rubbing an ear thoughtfully.

The horizon glows with burnished shades of orange and red, heralding the imminent arrival of Father Sun upon the rim of the world.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks, "We strain to recall Algernon's existence; removed from the past?"

In a melodic quaver, you say, "I know that when the grimalkin were released by the Eisenglass, "northern rabble" slayed many of them. It was those that were struck down that now wander the Haze."

In a melodic quaver, you say to Asphodel, "Algernon is a Spite, like the Frost Spite. He fell during the war against the Soulless Illith."

The features of Manteekan's face distort as a malicious smile grows upon His face, His features frozen as if caught in a rictus of death while He stares madly into the distance.
Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "My, you have all studied your history quite well. I am pleased."

You have emoted: Takhre dips their head politely, a light flush coming to their cheeks.

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "And yet, through Father's power, Algernon is now home, again."

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "History is important. Yes.. Without knowledge of, repetition can be a likely fate. Such repetition being a breeding ground for stagnation."
Tigro nods once, quietly.

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Wyrd-Father is powerful. Learning this. Learning much."

Chirring softly, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "We return grimalkins? Allow to pass on, to be reformed."
Asphodel's mandibles twitch slightly as they voice a brief, curious chirr.

Musing, with a languid wave of His hand, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "In time, perhaps they may be remade, but without any further developments, it is likely this is all that will remain of the creatures, spites and grimalkin both. This is why the ones who yet live must be protected."

Iazin smiles softly.

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "Yes, yes. Empower to protect - all Wisps must."

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "I've promptly granted this one a great resilience and immortality. I am very aware how precious."
Iazin pets a shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes ingratiatingly.
A shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes rubs up against Iazin, purring like a cat.

Asphodel licks their chitinous fingers, sweeping them over their face in a mockery of grooming.

With a far away stare, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Something has recently come to My attention that requires My study, Glomdoring. It is possible that others of My creations may yet exist."

Their compound eyes fixated on a pimply olive squonkabonk with rotten flesh wings, Asphodel's mandibles twitch to voice a brief, curious chirr.
A pimply olive squonkabonk with rotten flesh wings buries her head in Asphodel's shoulder and begin to weep uncontrollably.

Iazin tilts his head inquisitively at Manteekan.

A skeletal penguin with an icily brilliant white bow trots in with head high, butting Ferelith gently with her head.
As a skeletal penguin with an icily brilliant white bow comes to a stop, Ferelith pulls out Chanbe's Trusty Saddle of the Distinguished Treasure-Hunter and attaches it to a skeletal penguin with an icily brilliant white bow, pulling and tightening until the saddle fits firmly in place.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says to Manteekan, "We listen."

You have emoted: Takhre sits up straighter.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Manteekan, "What must we do?"

Quickly, anticipating what must soon come next, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I know you are all quick in your desire to assist. I do not yet know if this is even a possibility."

Tigro nods once, quietly.

Iazin nods solemnly.

With a smile full of malicious intent, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Have I told you all how much appreciation I have for Elfenehoala?"

You raise an eyebrow questioningly.
Slowly, you say, "Not yet."

A shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes lifts his chin as an aura of extreme confidence radiates away from him.

Tigro looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Malphas tilts his head and listens intently.

Manteekan focuses His attention upon Brennan Stormcrow, as though to intimidate the ancient Nexus Keeper. "A group of my contemporaries judged my creations for their fitness to continue living." He says to those gathered, though his gaze does not waver. "I am given to understand she fought against the extermination of every single one of my children."

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Tigro ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks, "Is this why the fae-kin find comfort in presence of the elfen-kin?"

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Elf-nest source of great shelter. Is possible."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I know that Lord Nocht was able to hide away Ciardha, as well, despite Their best efforts to eradicate all of the korrigan."

Manteekan nods His head at Xenthos.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "I have heard tell, tis the elfen kind who discovered and healed the ailing fae, and the forests."
In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "But, my knowledge is quite limited."
Tigro nods once, quietly.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "Ciardha child of Shadow Lord, sibling to Mother Night."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Well. You must understand that I did not create the korrigan with an aversion to eating eachother."

A sadistic chuckling rises from within Manteekan's throat, the estranged laughter escaping in both loud bellows and hushed whispers.

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "Strong consume weak. Is cycle of fittest."

Tigro idly twitches his tail.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Elfenehoala was a tender soul. She loved the fae too much, the weak ones, the useless ones. She was often with them, among them. But hiding away many of My fae with Night was Her idea, and Nocht's implementation."

Tigro ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."

A shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes gazes up at Manteekan, blinking slowly, before uncoiling and bumping his head against Iazin before slinking toward Ilistala, an enormous leopard and sniffing curiously.
Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "The useless ones being any that are not the children of Father?"

A skeletal penguin with an icily brilliant white bow preens herself meticulously.

A note of excitement entering their voice, you ask, "Have You located another on of Her hiding places, Father?"

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Cannot imagine fae apart from Wyrd-Father, from Mother Night."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says to you, "I have not. Merely something which bears a closer inspection. Alas, bridges burned make information hard to come by."

Iazin murmurs softly to himself.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "If bridges are burned. Then we shall swim. What may we do, to assist?"

Manteekan's face contorts into a sinister grin, revealing the points of the sharpened teeth hidden beneath each pale lip.

Iazin looks about himself suspiciously.

Asphodel licks their chitinous fingers, sweeping them over their face in a mockery of grooming.

(Haze): Iazin says, "I may have a thought that could, perhaps, assist in that. Though it is no small thing to consider."

Asphodel flashes a smirk from beneath hooded eyes, revealing two long, white fangs dripping with poison.

Beautiful wings of ice spring up from Xenthos's shoulder blades, expanding wider than any mortal's could, elegant yet cold. Crackling with the motion, they begin to fall apart, dissipating into the air as mist.

A shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes's throat rumbles with a low growl as he watches carefully over the space about him.

With all of the sweetness He can muster, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "It would not do to move in haste. I would not want us to do something that angers the Mistress upon Her return."

Tigro nods once, quietly.
In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "Understood."

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "Spider teaches us, plans best made with patience and web strong enough to hold."

Tigro nods his head in agreement.

Iazin nods his head at Asphodel.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard watches Manteekan carefully, the tip of her tail lashing.

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Will watch, observe."

A pimply olive squonkabonk with rotten flesh wings unleashes a screeching cry.

Manteekan stares speculatively between Ilistala, an enormous leopard and Xenthos, before deciding for Himself where the brains must lie. "Very well." He murmurs, with an abruptness. "The story of the grimalkin and their fate, and not a single detail left out. Would you have anything more from Me this afternoon, Glomdoring?"

Iazin shakes his head. "I only wish to say that I am working on the performance of a song in Your honour, and hope to be able to premier it for You."


Tigro bows respectfully to Manteekan.
In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Manteekan, "Thank You, for Your understanding. I seek only to show utmost respect, to You."
Tigro bows respectfully to Manteekan.

With a languid wave of His hand, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "So be it. Ta-ta."
The incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare, dissolves into a cool mist which creeps hauntingly away into the distance, leaving behind naught but an eerie silence and an unsettling chill.

Tigro blushes furiously.
Iazin blinks.

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "Ta-ta."

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Wyrd-Father terrible to behold. Greatly honored."

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many whispers, "He actually spoke to me. I find myself speechless."
Tigro nods his head at Malphas.

Ferelith blinks.

Initiate to the Tah'vrai, Ferelith Villarreal says, "Quite ssooo. A conversation I grasped all but the meaning - though I give myself credit for knowing that much."

Iazin stands, eyeing a shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes. "Hey now. Ilistala is bigger than you. Hate to say it, but you're no match."

Iazin flashes Ferelith a joyous smile.
Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "Worry not. The Haze is somewhat secretive, as it is."

Ilistala, an enormous leopard sniffs a shadowy ebon grimalkin with amber eyes, trying to decipher just what that smell emanating from him is.

Iazin walks to the grimalkin, scratching him behind the ears before turning well-deserved attention to Ilistala.
Iazin pets Ilistala, an enormous leopard ingratiatingly.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Iazin.

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says to Ilistala, an enormous leopard, "You are still Queen of Cats."

Settling on her roots with a groan of creaking wood, Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "I suspect talk of potentially angering the Lady Viravain has put them on edge."

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Malphas, "Care for a bit more hunting, Malphas?"
Tigro flashes Malphas a joyous smile.

Asphodel gives a mechanical spider to Malphas.

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Will rest soon. Pardon."

Tigro nods his head at Malphas.
In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Malphas, "Tis no problem."
Tigro nods once, quietly.

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Must grow used to outside. Strange without elf-nest."

Comprehension flashes across Tigro's face.
Tigro nods his head at Malphas.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Malphas, "Takes time. But that, you have. You are strong. You will adapt."

Tigro nods his head at Malphas.

Borne in hoarse cold tones, Malphas says, "Take of nest what will. Gift to Wyrd, gift to kin."

Tigro looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Wisp Iazin Stormcrow, Occasional Aphid says, "Well. With that, I think I will continue on my way to rest, as I initially intended."

Tigro nods his head at Iazin.
Wrynn inclines her head politely to Iazin.

Malphas leaves to the north.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says to Iazin, "Stay safe. T'iar."

Tigro nods once, quietly.

With a flourish of his arm, Iazin bows deeply.

In a quiet, dark accent, Drone Tigro, One of Many says, "I, myself, shall return to the hunt, then."
Tigro cracks his knuckles loudly.
Tigro idly twitches his tail.

Iazin touches his fingertips to his hand, illuminating the temporal tattoo upon it. The air beside him warps, as a clock-like portal manifests.
A dark nighthag turns her gaze to watch Iazin leave.
Slinking out on padded paws, a shadowy ebon grimalkin leaves to the ether.